


Recall

by nerdy-flower (baconnegg)



Series: The Shimada Brothers Need Healing [5]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boy howdy you came to the right place, Brothers learning how to be brothers again, Camping, Canon Disabled Character, Domestic Fluff, Drabble Collection, Established Relationship, Family Bonding, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Genji Shimada is a Little Shit, Hanzo being nice to Hana, High Sap Content, Intimacy, Light spice in chapter 3, M/M, Married Dorks, NSFW in chapter 6, Romantic Fluff, Schmoop, Wedding Fluff, Will tag as chaps added, You want adults fumbling through life and relationships and supporting each other so gd hard?, Zen is a service top and Genji digs it, Zenyatta is a little shit with more subtlety, good communication
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-04-19 14:15:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14239053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baconnegg/pseuds/nerdy-flower
Summary: Families are made of and held together by stories(A collection of one-shots in the Shimada Brothers Need Healing 'verse that don't fit into longer fics of their own)Current chapter: Zenyatta reflecting on when he fell in love with Genji, and how many times he's fallen in love since.





	1. Welcome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set about seven months before 'Crush'

Hanzo lurches out of his foggy thoughts as the bus driver slams needlessly on the brake, catching himself on the vaguely sticky metal pole beside him. The mall stop is a crush of rowdy teens, mothers with massive strollers, and scowling folks in synthetic retail uniforms, but Genji manages to find him and catch hold of his t-shirt sleeve. Squeezing themselves around the idiots standing in everyone’s way, they clamber onto the next bus headed east and flop into a seat near the front, the air conditioning working much better in the uncrowded cab. 

Hanzo blows out a sigh, tucking away his tangled earphones as they settle, messenger bags on their laps. “How was work?” 

“Not busy for a change,” Genji smooths his hair back, tearing open a small plastic package and tugging out a wipe to drag across his face. “I swear wedding and prom season will be the death of us all.” 

Hanzo snickers, raising an eyebrow at the copper-brown stain on the cloth. “Are you wearing foundation?” 

“Oh hell yeah, highlighter and everything,” Genji shuts his eyes to wipe away yet more stains. “The girls said if they’re expected to come in with a full face on, so am I.” 

“Can’t argue with that,” Hanzo hides a frown at how much more defined Genji’s facial scars are now. “Did you see Mei’s messages?” 

“In the groupchat? God yes, isn’t she hilarious when she’s tired?” 

They talk over the clattering of the engine as it clanks out of the familiar commercial district, buildings growing smaller and further apart, giving way to the edge of town proper. Wide roads lined with black portable signs, exits to the highway, and some nicotine-coloured motels. The bus lets them off in front of the warehouse-style grocery store and unstaffed coin carwash. A mere ten minutes’ walk up the weedy, recently hopscotched sidewalk leads them past the gravel parking lot of the ample conservation area and to the doors of the Shambali Monastery. 

Much less grand but no less dignified than its original counterpart, the single-story complex sits with gleaming whitewashed walls and ochre-yellow banners blowing in the summer breeze. Slim towers at each corner capped with bell-shaped peaks and checkmark-steep sloped tile roofs remind Hanzo of an absorbing, if dryly-taught architecture history class he’d taken in university. The grass outside is overgrown but tramped down. A small ramp leads up to a curved, dark wooden door that appears properly large once they’re close enough for the ancient pines out back to be out of sight. Hanzo lifts his hand to knock before an orange streak rounds the corner and more or less tackles his brother. 

“Genji! Genji’s home!” The young woman crows, her arms tight around his neck as he hugs her eagerly back before she drops down, tightly clasping his upper arms. “It’s been too long! How have you been?” 

“Good! How was Numbani?” 

“Oh, just wonderful! That’s the first time I’ve really been overseas like that, you know? I’m so glad Mondatta let me come-“ The woman talks so fast that Hanzo can hardly keep up, instead noting her similarities to Zenyatta- the shaved head and painted geometric dots, seemingly handmade sandals –and differences- the loose orange trousers held up with red rope and a simple matching top tied and tossed over one shoulder, the thick calluses on her palms. 

“-And this is my brother, Hanzo,” Genji claps him on the back, prompting him to stick out an awkward hand to be enthusiastically gripped in warm bronze fingers, leaving him still rather confused that she’s permitted to touch them. “Hanzo, this is Sita. She doesn’t bite.” 

“Can you be certain of that?” Sita giggles, showing off the gap in her front teeth, standing tall but scarcely reaching Genji’s shoulder. Hanzo can’t help but think that in another life, Genji would have been all too happy to test his charms on her. She waves them along suddenly. “Come with me! I have the best thing to show you!” 

She leads them to a side yard attached to the complex, fenced with high, tight wire and filled with plump, brown hens. Genji jabs an accusing finger at them. “If I have to chase after any of you today, I’ll make every last one of you into a great big sandwich, with mayonnaise, and I’ll lick my fingers after every bite. Do you hear me?” 

Hanzo chuckles softly at him. “You sounded like Jesse for a moment there.” 

“Oh god, I knew it was contagious,” Genji feigns a horrified gasp, getting distracting by one of the chickens pecking around the entrance. “Hey, I’m not kidding! I will deep fry you with a smile on my face!” 

“Stop terrorizing our only source of protein! Well- aside from peanut butter, but half the kids that come for soccer are allergic, so that’s out.” Sita returns from the small, ramshackle coop on the other side, slipping back through the gate and uncovering the cloth bundle in her arms to reveal a small, grey horned head. “Baby goat!” 

“Aaah, he smells terrible, I love him!” Genji scratches the squirming grey creature’s bearded chin, laughing as his hand gets inquisitively licked. “Where’d he come from?” 

“Reinhardt was doing some work on a friend’s farm and this little one had gotten rejected by his mother, so he brought him back for me!” Sita plants a kiss on the kid’s head as it bleats loudly. “We’ll probably end up giving him away when he’s older, but only to a good home. Do you like goats, Hanzo?” 

“Er- I suppose as much as the next person?” He reaches out to pet it, twitching back when it nips his finger. 

“Oops! I think it’s bottle time,” Sita shifts the animal’s weight to her other shoulder, not unlike a baby. “You’re both staying for supper, right?” 

“Of course, as if I’d ever leave on an empty stomach!” The two share a familiar grin and Genji leads Hanzo back to the main entrance, strolling in like he owns the place. 

The inner walls are painted a deep, earthy red, hung with a few scrolls and the occasional framed photo, all candid, slightly longing shots of mountains and villages. Windows are well spaced out and wide open. Genji shoos him away from removing his shoes. All the better, he’s not all that stable on his artificial feet without them, not on smooth surfaces like the mismatched hardwood that creakily announces their every step. 

Genji narrates a tour of the common areas– the minimalist meditation room, the well-stocked library, the hall of spare cots where Genji slept so many nights –finally through a door into the inner courtyard. Decently sized and brimming with flora, well-swept dirt paths leading from each of the four doors to the centre where a hexagonal pavilion sits lined with silver bells and brass censers. A middle-aged woman in caramel orange robes similar to Sita’s struggles up one path, arms stacked with cloth grocery bags and plastic bundles. She notices them and arches an eyebrow, her deep voice gone flat. “Ah, here comes trouble.” 

“Ditya, my beloved peach blossom!” Genji runs and bends to kiss the russet crown of her head, scooping half the bags from her arms. “Please, allow me to help you and spare your aging shoulders.” 

“Shove off, you,” She retorts with a fond glare. Hanzo moves to do the same and her expression softens. “Ah, that’s quite alright dear, you’re a guest. We need to keep this one whipped into shape.” 

Genji sticks his tongue out over his shoulder while Hanzo coughs a bit. “It’s very nice to meet you. I’m Hanzo Shimada-“ 

“You don’t say? I never would have guessed.” Ditya’s thin lips curl back, smirking broadly. She slides a few bags onto the arm Hanzo’s still awkwardly offering. “Here you are, if you insist on being useful.” 

Hanzo follows them to the kitchen. A well-constructed set of cabinets, steel sinks deep enough to bathe a small child in with old-fashioned hand pump faucets, and an arched doorway leading to a long, bare wooden table accompanied by twenty or so matching chairs. All cobbled together with the same loving craftsmanship as the exterior and smelling faintly delicious with the residue of past enjoyed meals. 

Ditya and Genji shelve the bulk foodstuffs and toiletries with ease. Hanzo quietly tucks his bags away and offers to assist with dinner prep. His hushed laughter at Genji’s ongoing back-and-forth with the older woman renders his chopping uneven but serviceable, until he’s distracted by Ditya’s request of “Could you be a dear and set the table? If I leave your brother alone with this, we’ll be fasting tonight.” He obliges happily, clutching a fistful of forks and tucking a stack of cloth napkins under his chin, only to turn around and nearly walk straight into Mondatta. 

In his time as the Shimada heir apparent, he had dinner, drinks, and meetings with all manner of important so-and-so’s from here, there, and everywhere, anyone who brought wealth into the quietly isolated Hanamura. But it feels a long way from that sort of mingling to standing before someone who has earned all accolades short of the Peace Prize for their work and who he repeatedly watched get shot in the back of a limo on international news. 

Not to mention the fact that the Shambali’s leader is several inches taller than him, with a steely sharp bone structure and a pair of grey-green eyes that bore down as if looking right through him. Hanzo suddenly wonders if Genji had actually procured an invitation for him, or merely assumed that his disgraced, ambiguously punk brother is welcome in private, sacred halls. 

“Hanzo, I presume?” Mondatta’s severe mouth bends into a smile at his stiff nod. “A pleasure to have you in our home, I hope you find it to your liking. Where’s Zenyatta gotten off to?” 

“He just texted me,” Genji says around a mouthful of something stolen, squinting at his phone. “He- uh, missed his bus and is catching the next one, I guess? Where are my glasses?” 

“On your head, my friend,” Humour covers the gravitas of Mondatta’s voice for a moment as Hanzo hurries past him. 

“That’s not Genji I hear, is it?” A rough voice booms as heavy boots clomp into the kitchen. Genji’s descriptions of Angela’s former colleague and Mondatta’s most recent bodyguard failed to accurately convey the seven foot army veteran’s enormous presence. “How have you been, son?” 

“I’ve been- _oof!_ \- busy, mostly. Where’s Brigitte?” 

“Home with the wee ones. Her sister had another baby, you know!” 

Hanzo catches himself half-smiling as he neatly lays out seventeen places. It’s no surprise that Genji has made himself so welcome here. No matter how troublesome he was, people were drawn to him, sucked into his orbit like asteroids. Even as a baby, Genji was all sunshine smiles and outstretched arms while Hanzo had supposedly been quiet and clinging. That magnetism alone had almost been enough to convince Hanzo to come here, though it had still taken a spot of guilt. At least he hasn’t embarrassed himself yet. 

He does receive a crushing, one-armed hug that he didn’t ask for when he goes back for the bowls, but it makes Genji laugh so it’s not a total loss. 

The rest of the Shambali appear promptly at six, talking amongst themselves and sitting in two straight lines on either side of the table. Genji leans into Hanzo’s ear as he passes him one of the steaming pots of rice. “[Doesn’t it remind you of that picture book, you know, with the little French girls?]” 

Hanzo smothers a snort just as Zenyatta comes rushing in, tidy red slacks and pressed white top looking slightly rumpled. “Ah, I’m so sorry for being late! The parenting program always runs overtime, I should know better by now.” 

“Did you cuddle every single baby?” Genji bends to share a quick, polite smooch as Zen takes his place at the end of the table. 

“I did!” Zen laughs merrily, smoothing himself out. “I just can’t help myself, they’re all so precious.” 

“Just like you, Zen- bhā'i!” Sita pinches his cheek on her way by, giggling with another woman named Shing at Zenyatta’s protests that he’s far too old for that nickname, would you at least not use it in front of company, please, it’s embarrassing. 

Hanzo spends the mealtime prayer with his head bent, surprised to see Genji completely still for more than five seconds at a time, more surprised that he seems to remember all the words. The dinner is filled with chatter between bites of the delicious brown rice and fried greens. Hanzo’s thankful he prepared a few anecdotes about himself ahead of time, because everyone at their end of the table wants to know more about Genji’s brother and he can only deflect conversation back to him so many times. The thought of the alternative makes him cringe. _Yes, hello, I’m Hanzo. I sling deli meat for poverty wages, sketch naked people at the library, and spend my days off contemplating all my short-sighted decisions. My boyfriend incomprehensibly finds all this attractive. It sure has been humid lately, hasn’t it?_

He still eats too fast and folds his hands on his lap for want of anything to do with them, running his fingers along the stiff denim seams. Would it be disrespectful to check his phone? Probably, better not risk it. 

When a few of the monks stack up the dishes and take them to the sink, he quietly excuses himself to the fridge and retrieves the grocery bag he’d stashed there earlier. Not wanting to go rifling through their drawers looking for knives, he just sort of balls it up in his pocket and brings the boxes over to the table. The mismatched family is still talking amongst themselves, Reinhardt’s laugh booming over something on Mondatta’s side. He isn’t sure how best to interrupt, or if he should. 

Genji does it for him, ever excited by the appearance of more food. Hanzo fights a visible wince when everyone turns to look at him- he’s always hated that moment. No matter how many school assignments and important family functions required him to momentarily be the centre of attention, the moment of silent expectation just before he speaks still makes his skin crawl. At his age. How pathetic. 

“I wanted to bring a small token of my appreciation,” Hanzo says, quietly clearing his throat and nudging the boxes forward. Two pies– one rhubarb and one pecan –purchased after an SOS text to Amélie during a trip to the supermarket made unnecessarily long by trying to figure out an appropriate hostess gift for an order of monks. “To offer my sincere thanks to all of you for looking after my brother for so long, I know he can be a handful.” 

The one called Jyoti replies first, in a stage whisper to their seatmate. “Ah, so this is the one who inherited all the manners.” 

“I heard that!” Genji stops staring strangely at Hanzo to dramatically shake his fist as laughter bubbles up from the group. 

“A very kind gesture, extra treats rarely go uneaten around here.” Mondatta chuckles, bringing his hands up to rest his chin atop them as his gaze turns warm. “Your generosity is appreciated, but not entirely necessary. Genji has been a wonderful addition to our household, and watching him blossom is a continued joy to all of us.” 

Genji’s ears glow pink in the way their father’s sometimes had at their mother’s teasing. He pushes his glasses up and chuckles quietly. Hanzo spots Zenyatta squeezing his hand, hidden under the table. 

“I believe we have more than one serving knife, don’t we?” 

“I’ll get them, not to worry!” Reinhardt stands, patting Mondatta’s shoulder and carefully side-shuffling behind everyone, Ditya following after. Genji makes a point of distracting Zenyatta and several others with a particularly ridiculous story from their youth; an important trip to Hong Kong gone awry, courtesy of the one and only time he had managed to coax Hanzo out for karaoke and drinks with a bunch of local girls and they ended up sloshed and locked out of their family’s penthouse suite in the middle of the night. 

Hanzo’s increasingly forced laughter mixes with confusion at the monks’ obvious enjoyment of Genji’s candor about his shameless past, but is soon cut short when Reinhardt reappears with a slab of ice cream cake, the icing proclaiming Zenyatta’s twenty-eight years (eight more than he looks and twenty less than he sounds) and the tiny flames flickering in the muggy wind slipping through the yellow-shaded windows. 

“I thought we were celebrating tomorrow!” Zenyatta beams after blowing out the three candles to enthusiastic applause, eagerly taking the brown paper-wrapped package and handmade card from Ditya. 

“We were,” Mondatta replies with a barely restrained smirk. “But then Genji informed me that he has plans for you tomorrow that don’t involve us.” 

“And no, I’m not telling you what they are,” Genji grins and leans in to kiss his boyfriend’s cheek. “ _Otanjōbi omedetō, Zen._ ” 

Zenyatta quickly reads the card (which Hanzo had nearly spilled onions on in his haste to sign it) and tears open the wrapping while Reinhardt hacks apart the not-entirely-thawed cake, gasping at the beautifully patterned quilt of infinite colours and accepting the squeeze of Ditya’s arms around his shoulders. “Your other one is going to come apart in the wash one of these days. Plus, we made it big enough for two this time.” 

“Splendid! All the more for Genji to hog.” 

“I am incredibly hurt by that completely correct accusation.” 

Zenyatta laughs and declares his sweetly-worded thanks to everyone. Dessert carries on with the same convivial energy. Hanzo assumes that Genji’s birthdays here were much the same, given that he returned just this past February after the pitiful lunch Hanzo had treated him to. At least here he had people to celebrate with, to give him beautiful gifts and brief undivided attention, after he’d been abandoned by his brother, the Shimadas, and his hard-partying, low-commitment circle of friends back home. 

He won’t permit himself to dwell any longer on how lucky these kind people are, to have watched and had a hand in shaping the capable, confident man sitting beside him. Genji has assimilated Zen’s finely-tuned empathy and Hanzo hasn’t been able to keep a damn thing from him. 

Everyone separates after dinner, heading off to seemingly predetermined activities. Genji and Zen encourage him to come relax in the garden, which he agrees to after a brief visit to the restroom. He’s not gone more than five minutes, finding his way to the backyard where his brother and Zenyatta are completely enthralled with each other. Next to some tiger lilies off near the property line, Zenyatta points to a multi-level set of bird feeders and gestures animatedly. Genji kneels with his elbows braced on the arm of Zen’s wheelchair so he can look up, overgrown green hair held back with a black headband and one strap of his traffic cone orange tank top sliding down a well-tanned shoulder. 

Hanzo seizes the opportunity for a breather, sitting on the toasty wooden edge of the veranda and checking his phone. A lone text from Jesse whinging about having to work another concert job but still wishing Zen well makes him grin. His thighs start to sweat and stick to his jeans in the glare of the June sun. He grimaces, wishing he could bring himself to ignore the stares and intrusive, unwanted questions as easily as Genji does. At least he doesn’t live where Jesse had grown up, he might have died of heatstroke by now. 

“We should form a club.” Hanzo jumps slightly when a cloud of white robes appears at his side, Mondatta sitting down beside him with seamless grace. 

“A club?” 

“Yes,” Mondatta’s eyes take on a teasing light as he crosses his legs. “The ‘our dear little brothers don’t have time for us anymore’ club, we can make jackets.” 

Hanzo has to chuckle at that, rubbing the back of his neck and noticing how badly he needs a buzz. Ditya joins them momentarily, balancing a tray of raspberry lemonade. Hanzo gratefully accepts a glass, thoroughly perplexed by the gentle cheek-pat that comes with it. “I finished triaging your email for you.” 

“ _Dhanyabad,_ your efficiency is peerless as ever, sister.” Mondatta shares a small smile with the older woman as she sits on his other side and Genji and Zenyatta return, beckoned by their thirst. “Genji, I meant to ask you, have you picked your fall schedule yet? A colleague of mine is teaching a course I think you might be interested in.” 

“Not yet, I think I might just stick to one class a semester for a while. I’m trying to get more shifts and restore my savings a bit.” Genji’s lips pull to one side as he sucks on an ice cube. “The admin office called and said I have to pick a major, though. I’ve got a few options but I don’t know which one is the most, you know, useful?” 

Hanzo makes a note to send Genji cash for the next appropriate gift-giving holiday while Mondatta hums pensively. “Well, pick the one that most speaks to you. Everything from then on is simply a matter of luck and hard work.” 

“Turning to greeting card sentiments now, dai?” Zenyatta says with a toothy smirk, waving one hand dismissively. “I suppose you can’t expect much better from a college drop-out.” 

Hanzo chokes slightly on his drink as Mondatta’s eyes narrow, a hint of conceit in his voice. “I didn’t drop out, I was kicked out. There’s a difference.” 

“Right, right, the latter makes for a much better photo op.” Zenyatta laughs airily while Ditya and Genji snicker along, watching with amusement. 

Mondatta sighs wearily, turning to Hanzo and making a sharp gesture towards Zen. “I will understand completely if you object to your brother being under the influence of such insolence. I swear he used to listen to me.” 

“Until I got old enough to know better, about age two, I believe,” Zenyatta replies, an impish gleam in his eyes that’s much, much too familiar to Hanzo and leaves him fighting a grin. “Even now, I still can’t so much as file my nails without you offering insight.” 

“A little brotherly guidance, now and then,” Mondatta sniffs. “Hardly worth being so snide about.” 

“A little? Never a little!” Zenyatta barks a laugh, polishing off his drink and pointing the glass at him. “You could have filled another book with that tirade of relationship advice you gave me. I ought to have recorded it and spared you the first draft.” 

“Given at your specific request, that time.” 

Zenyatta’s expression tightens into a rather endearing frown. “None of it was actually practical.” 

“Asking a celibate man was your first mistake, Zenyatta,” Hanzo teases, reminded of his preteen taunts at his brother’s expense. All good-natured, back then. 

The three monastery residents go quiet, looking at Hanzo sideways while Genji lays flat on his back in the grass, limbs splayed and distractedly playing with his phone. Hanzo’s throat burns as he curses his misstep, it would have been better to remain silent than to be so overly familiar. A joke like that- what was he thinking? And Jesse wonders why he always excuses himself from party invitations. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend-“ 

“Oh, there’s nothing to be sorry for,” Mondatta politely interrupts, tone changed from bickering to curious, almost bashful. “I’m just surprised that Genji never mentioned it to you.” 

Ditya nods solemnly, adding with a hidden smile, “Yes, he normally has such a big mouth.” 

“You do realize that I can hear you? I have ears and everything,” Genji pouts, nearly dropping his phone on his face as he shrugs. “You said to keep it private, I kept it private. I’m not a complete idiot.” 

“I never said you were a partial one,” Mondatta chuckles, holding out his right hand and drawing attention to the thin white tattoos on his four fingers, remarkably tiny inscriptions banded like rings. “I’m actually married, not that that renders me an expert.” 

“Tell him what they say!” Zenyatta sing-songs, mischievous grin back with a vengeance as he leans forward, hands balled under his chin. 

“You know, your constant need to embarrass me is becoming downright pathological-!” Mondatta’s cool tone cuts off on a high-pitched yelp as a large golden-pink hand presses a soaked dishtowel to the back of his neck.

“Ah, sorry meine liebe!” Reinhardt drops to one knee behind him and pulls him close to kiss his temple, the whole porch squeaking with his weight. “Trying to keep you from heatstroke, that’s all. You wilt like a rose in this weather.” 

“That is-not entirely true, but thank you,” Mondatta coughs, a flush appearing on his cheeks. The white-haired man laughs heartily, tightening his arm around Mondatta’s chest for a moment before standing with a stiff grunt and stepping off the porch, whistling his way towards the small cabin nestled near the tree line. 

“I wish I could have gotten a photo of that face!” Zenyatta manages between breathless giggles, Genji wheezing at his side. “It was _priceless._ ” 

Mondatta sighs wearily, interest in retaliation all but gone, and Zen’s attention soon turns to something Genji’s showing him, a sneak preview of their plans for tomorrow. He takes the opportunity to turn to Hanzo and smile faintly. “I can trust you to keep it under wraps, I’m sure. Unfortunately it’s more than my own safety that would be at risk during our travels.” 

“Of course,” Hanzo nods emphatically, dropping his gaze. “And I apologize again, that was thoughtless of me.” 

“Hardly so,” Ditya replies, a tender lilt to her voice that Hanzo isn’t certain how to add up. “You had no way of knowing. We’re not _that_ sort of cult, after all.” 

“Though some headlines say otherwise,” Mondatta puffs out a laugh, pushing up the dripping cloth on his neck, a glimmer of Zen’s trademark softness in his eyes. “All the more reason for us to keep our personal lives under lock and key, I’m afraid. I do wish it were otherwise, it pains me to advocate love and not lead by example.” 

Hanzo smiles slowly, the price of his and Genji’s anonymity here has been equally worthwhile and trying. “Perhaps someday it won’t be so. The world is changing, after all.” 

“We can hope,” Ditya adds encouragingly, then directs a small, dry smirk his way. “And I must thank you for not immediately assuming it was me, unlike _some people._ As if I wouldn’t sooner be his aunt than-“ 

“Ditya, _please,_ ” Genji whines, flinging his arms pleadingly around her calves. “I was young and stupid and I’ve apologized at least a million times, will you please stop dragging me already?” 

The others laugh gleefully, and Hanzo joins them, breathing in the warmth of the orange evening air as the sun dips behind the forest. 

After saying good-bye to everyone at least twice (as well as Genji and Zenyatta disappearing briefly only to return with lingering, coy smiles), Hanzo and his brother shuffle through the dark to grab the bus. Genji nods off within seconds of sitting down, a third dessert helping catching up with him. Hanzo allows him to slump and snore against him while he keeps his eyes on his phone. Genji’s peace is a continued relief to him, but the visit still felt like going through someone else’s photo albums. Chasing a closeness that wasn’t his, and perhaps never would be again. 

He had relinquished his rights to his brother long ago, but the jealousy still sits in his chest. Cold, immature, and empty. 

**JM:** I’ve got six more hours of this, I’m surrounded by drunk children, and I swear to god if I have to confiscate one more knife I’m gonna hit the gd roof  
**JM:** Why would you bring a knife, you paid out the ass for these tickets, just show up n have a good time  
**JM:** Anyway, hope your night’s going better than mine, sugar  <3 Y’all have fun at Zen’s? 

Hanzo snorts and thinks for a moment before replying. 

**HS:** You poor underpaid soul. It was a nice evening. Seems like Zen enjoyed himself.  
**HS:** Genji’s taking him on some kind of romantic adventure tomorrow. We should do the same. Except by romantic adventure I mean eat cereal and watch movies in our least attractive sweatpants, if you would like.  
**HS:** You can pick the films, but I restrict back-to-back Westerns to a maximum of 3. 

**JM:** I have never been more turned on in my life  <3 <3 <3  
**JM:** Seriously though I’m gonna be worn slap out tomorrow, don’t wanna bore you 

**HS:** I don’t need entertainment. Your company is good enough for me. 

Hanzo briefly panics, cycling through the different tones the message could be read in and longing for an unsend button. 

**JM:** Aw babe  <3 miss you too. To hell with this work bs, let’s win the lottery n buy some horses 

**HS:** A sound financial plan if I’ve ever heard one. 

**JM:** Break’s over, fuck  
**JM:** Get some sleep k? I probably won’t be outta here till 4. Love you, gnight xo 

**HS:** Love you too. Good night, Jesse. 

“Send him an ex-oh too, you heartless monster.” 

Hanzo stiffens, presses his lips together and slowly turns to find Genji’s eyes half-open, his face mashed against Hanzo’s shoulder. “I wish I’d gotten the puppy I asked for instead of you.” 

Genji’s cackle echoes loudly in the empty bus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again, everyone! This is where I'll be throwing shorter stories from time to time (shorter is a relative concept, oops I'm forever long-winded).  
> This chapter is brought to you by my own experiences of being stuck in my own head and feeling like every social interaction is a series of successes or failures (I write Hanzo on the spectrum similar to where I am, just a personal fave hc of mine, feel free to ignore it), as well as a desire to just write a soft little pit stop with more Shambali content. I hope you enjoyed it! Have some bonus headcanons on a Friday night:  
> 1\. Mondatta supports the monastery's modest budget with royalties from the books he's written (all bestsellers). Zenyatta calls him a sell-out, but he's always the first one to read his brother's first drafts, and if that's not love then what is.  
> 2\. Zenyatta looks up to Mondatta more than anyone, but he never misses an opportunity to dunk on his big brother  
> 3\. Mondatta and Reinhardt's finger tattoos are in Nepali, and they're exactly as embarrassing/romantic as Zen makes them out to be. Also they're not married on paper, but they did have a ceremony at the monastery with their nearest and dearest.  
> 4\. Genji picks up quite a bit of Nepali at the monastery! Some practical things, some curse words, and some sweet things to say to Zen, still can't order a sandwich  
> 5\. Jyoti and Ditya were the very first to join the Shambali (besides Zenyatta, obviously). Jyoti left university to follow Mondatta, they were involved briefly and have made the transition to just-friends very smoothly. Ditya left a rougher life behind and strives to be the mom friend we need and the one we deserve
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	2. Respite

Dollars were stretched thin after their wedding, but by August their wallets had recovered sufficiently for Jesse to take his husband and brothers-in-law on that affordable, family vacation rite-of-passage known as camping. In the dog days of summer, while all their workplaces were lean on air conditioning and iced tea was never enough, little more convincing was needed than “Y'all wanna get the hell outta here for a couple days?” 

 

They luck into a campsite both accessible and dog-friendly, only necessitating that Genji hand off their spare keys and a bottle of wine to Winston in exchange for some cat-sitting. They rent and borrow what they can, strapping a carrier atop Jesse's still-slightly-new Jeep to accommodate it all and cramming whatever's left into the trunk or their packs. A tight squeeze, but there's still room in the backseat for an eighty-pound mutt, so Jesse declares victory on the packing front. 

 

“Road trip, road trip!” Genji sing-songs as he leaps into the driver's seat, starting the car before twisting his body around with a serious expression. “Now listen- I have taken great pains to craft this playlist. Each song has been carefully selected from our Spotify accounts-” 

 

“I never gave you my password,” Hanzo interrupts, rolling up Den's leash. The dog's tail thumps happily against the floor, tongue-lollingly happy at being included in the Car Ride. 

 

“You didn't have to, anyways,” Genji pushes his glasses back up his nose. “Everyone has an equal number of songs in such a quantity that we'll have enough for the entire trip, including potential traffic delays, and they have been sequenced so that no one gets two songs in a row. Standard singing-along rules apply, as usual. This way, we can all enjoy the music at a reasonable volume with no skipping, arguing, or complaining. Unlike last time.” 

 

“This seems somewhat personal,” Hanzo crosses his arms and meets his brother's half-joking glare. “I'm sorry that I was unable to tolerate an entire hour of Die Antwoord, much like any other normal person.” 

 

“And I'm sorry for not wanting to fall asleep at the wheel listening to your whiny hipster bullshit-” 

 

“Guys, we haven't even left the driveway yet,” Jesse sighs while Zenyatta chortles and syncs Genji's phone. “Don't make me put y'all in your get-along shirt.” 

 

The brothers reluctantly acquiesce, Genji buckling himself in and throwing the mildly scratched-up vehicle into reverse in one motion, accompanied by an excited shout. He pulls out too fast, bouncing them around in their seats to their voiced displeasure, before accelerating towards the highway. 

 

Genji's introduction proves true, resulting in a unique, unexpectedly alright mix of songs. Den settles at their feet, panting slightly as the A/C struggles to keep up with the beating mid-morning sun. Jesse soaks in the warmth, stretching his right arm over the back of Hanzo's seat and peeking at his phone. He lightly taps his bare shoulder when he spots his work email open. “Hey now, don't turn into a workaholic on me, honeybee.” 

 

“Sorry, one last crisis check,” Hanzo slightly forces his smile, tucking his phone into the pocket of his sleeveless blue hoodie. “God forbid I'm away for more than a minute and someone realizes they spelled their own name wrong on their business card.” 

 

Jesse snorts and steals a kiss off his temple, pulling him as close as is comfortable in the summer swelter. Genji and Zen have wasted no time in holding hands atop the gearshift, their tattoos gleaming green and gold in the sun while Zen keeps an eye on the GPS, cheerfully noting how he feels like the explorer his five-year-old self had keenly aspired to be. The stereo thrums along to some past-due bubblegum pop song that Genji appears to know all the words to, drumming his fingers rhythmically on the wheel to the beat. 

 

“This isn't a complaint,” Hanzo prefaces as he leans towards the front seats with an eyebrow raised. “But I am curious as to how you know these lyrics so well.” 

 

“Because I work with a bunch of twentysomething women who are daily trying to reclaim the sweet, golden taste of their youth before they had to pay student loans and acknowledge their limitations. Plus it's catchy. Don't judge me.” Genji resumes singing on a note far out of his vocal range, finishing off the last chorus before squeezing Zen's hand. “Hey, when's the next rest stop? I need fries before my hunger starts affecting my emotional state.” 

 

“The exit after this one, dear.” 

 

They stop and stretch at an abnormally fancy service plaza. Hanzo walks Den past the parked tractor trailers for a leak while the others grab food inside. They eat out by the car, avoiding loud children and a yappy batch of small dogs that confuse and worry Den. They fret and stress over confusing check-in information, but Zenyatta puts his mindful foot down and refuses them leaving until their greasy paper sacks are empty and thrown away. Jesse takes the wheel while Genji hops in back with his brother and fur-nephew. A song from their teenage years crackles over the speakers and Genji keys up, unsuccessfully goading his brother into joining his duet. 

 

“You're no fun,” Genji whines and elbows Hanzo, who elbows him back just as hard. “You've got a great voice! Me and Kaa-san used to come watch you perform at the school exhibition every year, remember? You got ribbons and everything.” 

 

“Oh hold up, Hanzo was a choirboy?” Jesse grins at his scowling husband in the rear-view mirror. “How did I not know this? That's wholesome as hell.” 

 

“It wasn't a choir, it was just our normal music class,” Hanzo rolls his eyes. “And it was before my voice broke, it's irrelevant now.” 

 

“Still! You were like, the one person the music teacher never made cry.” 

 

“Well- that's only because my true accomplishment was successfully swallowing all my feelings.” 

 

The brothers laugh darkly while Zenyatta clicks his tongue and looks away from the scenery. “I really don't understand why the arts attract such belligerent teachers. I swear, I've counselled enough creative types to open a small Broadway production. I'm half-tempted to make it a screening question on our intake form.” 

 

“Bitter adults with a captive audience, s'kinda inevitable,” Jesse replies, glancing back again with a grin. “Plus artists tend to be on the sensitive side.” 

 

Genji nods and pats his brother's shoulder sympathetically. “Yes, perhaps if you weren't so  
traumatized, you'd join me and Angela at karaoke like we've asked you to literally one billion times.”

 

Hanzo's grin breaks through the feigned clouds on his face. “I want a divorce from both of you.” 

 

Jesse snorts, throwing a smile back at him. “Oh, that's what did it? I want literally all my comfortable shirts back, then. I'll sue ya for every last stitch.”

 

“Also that doesn't work with us! You're stuck with me _forever,”_ Genji drags the last word out, hugging his brother tightly with both arms until they devolve into a playful wrestling match, of which Den and his anxious face-licking is the only winner. 

 

They eventually turn off the main highway onto a pothole-dotted, far less noisy one, passing through a half-dozen sleepy towns with hilariously unpronounceable names and stopping to pick up their rented equipment from a store that probably doesn't, but definitely has the appearance of having a few bodies hidden under the floorboards. Zenyatta excitedly declares their arrival as they drive through the park gate. After fumbling with all their permits, they're let in and Genji becomes briefly flustered when the gravel road sends pain shooting up his arms. Jesse makes sure to gently squeeze his shoulder when they pull over and switch again, much too familiar with the needless, reinforced expression of defeat on his face. 

 

Their campsite is a cozy nest of grass and flat black boulders on the softly curving shore of a long lake, secluded from nearby sites by tall pines and sprightly little red maples. Plenty of flat ground to set themselves up, but enough brush that it feels like their own private slice of heaven. The sky bends big and blue overhead, the water rolling in thin, clear folds and ripples, the opposite shore a shelf of greens and browns dipped in honey by the brilliant afternoon light. 

 

As they unpack, Jesse chafes against his limits as he had when he took Hanzo down South and they slept under desert stars in the back of a rented pickup truck. Deadlock had taught him how to rough it out where the cops couldn't be bothered to look, building on the piddly survival skills he'd picked up as a persistent runaway, and then they'd taken his arm, rendering those same skills mostly theoretical. Gabe had taken him and Fareeha a few times after that, but his days off were harder to come by back then. He covers the frustration by meeting the others in the middle. Hanzo learned a few things during their trip, and Zen is remarkably well-adapted to the outdoors. A side-effect of spending his teens halfway up a mountain, he supposes. 

 

“Genji,” Jesse returns from the car with their rolled-up sleeping pad on his hip. “What in the hell are you doing?” 

 

Genji stops hammering in the stakes, looking at the tent laying half-unfolded and pole-less on the ground, then looking back and shrugging. “My best.” 

 

With only a small amount of tripping and cursing, the tent is upright and secure before sunset. Hanzo patiently walks his brother through the fine art of building a fire while Jesse whistles and gets their cooking supplies together. Zenyatta throws the ball for an over-stimulated Den, carefully avoiding the water though the shepherd-mix would happily dive in given the chance. They lay old blankets over the leaf-littered ground and drip sauce onto their laps as they scarf down the vegetarian spaghetti. 

 

Zenyatta returns from the washrooms visibly fidgeting and scratching his arms. “Goodness, all those spiders- I don't know why, but I've got this irrational fear of one dropping onto my head or back while I'm trapped in there. Did you see the huge nest in the corner?” 

 

Genji shakes his head, wiping the sheen of sweat off his face with the inside of his t-shirt. “No, I haven't been in there all day. Is it gross?” 

 

“I've seen worse,” Zenyatta's expression immediately shifts into concern. “You must be dehydrated. Here love, sit down and have some water before you get heatstroke.” 

 

Genji waves a hand, still rooting around in the trunk. “Oh no, I've drank plenty, I've just been peeing in the woods.” 

 

Zen's tender expression flattens, mouth quirking to one side. “Well then. You must have seen them, Hanzo?” 

 

Hanzo pauses, steel water bottle halfway to his mouth. “I've- been doing the same.” 

 

Jesse feigns a heavy sigh, standing and placing a sympathetic hand on Zen's shoulder. “I saw 'em, want me to get rid of 'em? Few swings with a towel should do it, at least temporarily.” 

 

“No need,” Zen replies, full lips curling on an almost cat-like smile. “They're in their natural habitat, much like the other wildlife around here.” 

 

Jesse cracks up, joining Zen's merry, bell-like giggle while Genji argues about nature and freedom and Hanzo simply drops his head sheepishly, hiding a smirk. Jesse grabs a flashlight in the fading dusk and makes the long walk up the path, now unfortunately exiting the poorly-lit tile enclosure with a similar case of heebie-jeebies. On his return, he finds the three hovering near the shore, staring up at the sky. Genji's taken a knee to lean his head on Zenyatta's shoulder, murmuring in a soft, awed tone that he's never seen the stars like this before. 

 

Jesse comes up behind Hanzo, pulling him close and nuzzling where he's let his hair down. Hanzo shivers almost imperceptibly, their damp shirts cool against their skin. Above them, the white wash of the Milky Way gleams in the all-consuming blue darkness of a new moon. An infinite river of stars, rendering them small and unmoored on the rocks, the water lapping ceaselessly near their toes. He tightens his arm across Hanzo's broad chest, exhaling deeply at the warm, sticky press of Hanzo's right hand on his, yet another dumb smile crossing his face at the click-catch of their rings. 

 

Fatigue hits them quick after a day of packing, hauling, and white line fever. They double-check the car and and the fire-pit and stumble into their tent. It's pretty damn spacious for the price, ample room for the foam pad and sleeping bags they've zipped together as mattresses, only needing threadbare quilts for comfort more than warmth. Zen parks his chair in the corner near the door and they carefully prop their prosthetic limbs away from their potentially active sleeping bodies. Den walks in circles, unclear as to why they're inside this weird nylon box. Genji tries to coax him to their side, but Jesse pats his thigh twice and enthusiastically praises him when he instantly fits himself across their legs. 

 

They haven't turned off the hanging lantern more than two minutes when an innocuous twig breaks somewhere outside and Genji twitches up. “Where's the bear mace again?” 

 

“By my pillow,” Hanzo grumbles in the pitch dark. “That wasn't a bear.” 

 

“But if it was, hypothetically, how effective is that stuff? On a scale of ten to not at all?” 

 

Jesse snorts against Hanzo's shoulder. “Don't start, ya spoiled brat.” 

 

“I'm just saying! One hungry bear versus four guys who can't escape up a tree won't end in our favour if that spray is no good.” 

 

Zenyatta mumbles, dazed by sleep. “Black bears can climb trees.” 

 

“See? We're screwed no matter what.” 

 

“Genji,” Hanzo growls out. “If you don't go to sleep in the next two minutes I'm going to tie you up and throw you in the trunk.” 

 

“Okay, geez, sorry for being concerned about our safety.” Plastic rustles as Genji settles onto his back, the ensuing silence filled with the distant calls and skittering of nighttime creatures outside, a familiar lullaby- “Does it work on wolves, though?” 

 

Jesse hadn't thought that Hanzo whacking his brother a good one with a pillow would ever be a step forward in their relationship and yet, here they were. 

 

Heat and humidity leave his dreams thick and soupy, as they had always been back down South. His sense of touch returns first, the weight of a shallowly-breathing man at his side, the tacky stick of sweat all over, lanky furry limbs splayed across his calves. He presses a smooch to Hanzo's forehead and sits up, scratching his belly and yawning wide enough to pop his jaw. He spots Zen laying on his front, reading a book, and half-smiles at him. “Mornin'. Y'want coffee?” 

 

Zen nods happily, his slim gold earrings glinting in the early light. Hanzo blinks to life at the promise of caffeine. Jesse laughs and helps him sit up, kissing his sleep-mussed hair and gently kneading the kinks out of his back while Hanzo unabashedly pushes his face against Jesse's chest. Meanwhile, Zen engages in similar coaxing (“Time to wake up, little sparrow.” “Mnflgh?”). 

 

Eventually, the brothers pull on their limbs and crawl out of the tent, toiletries in hand. Hanzo loses his footing as he stands, bumping into Genji and eliciting a grunt of concern. He answers with a similar wordless grunt as they shamble along, squinting in the sun and clothed only in dignity and pajama shorts. 

 

Jesse chuckles and shakes his head as Den plods around them, awaiting permission to Go Out. “Isn't it cute how they're basically the same person when they ain't awake yet?” 

 

Zenyatta beams, accepting a few good-morning hand-licks from the dog. “Absolutely adorable.” 

 

Coffee keeps everyone sated during the flapjack-making process, Genji speedily washing the dishes and refilling the filtration bag. Jesse complains that the instant ones aren't as good, and Hanzo teases him for having high culinary standards for a man he's watched put peanut butter and sriracha on bread and call it a sandwich. 

 

They pack less morally questionable sandwiches, as Genji dubs them, grab their water bottles, and head out for the trails. Den sets his nose to the ground as soon as they get out of the car at the visitor centre, inhaling all the new smells and getting as close to pulling on his leash as he can without breaking Hanzo's strictly-enforced rule. 

 

The five of them ramble along a boardwalk trail, passing through a large bog where the reeds have grown up past the railing. The bugs are thick, requiring pause for a second coating of the noxious repellent over their exposed skin while Den snaps at enormous dragonflies. Genji nearly lurches over the wooden rails more than once, trying and failing to befriend startled bullfrogs. He finally catches a small toad and presents it to Zen, who graciously strokes its warty head and releases it back into the marshy water. 

 

Jesse keeps a tight hand on the camera strapped around his neck- a too-generous combined birthday gift from Ana and Fareeha -snapping away and hoping the pictures look halfway decent. Hanzo says he has a good eye, he's not so sure. But he likes to hang onto this stuff, even the stupid snapshots on his phone. Memories are worth remembering now, and getting to this point has nearly made him into a tourist in his own life. 

 

He's trying to get a photo of Hanzo from behind- show a sneaky bit of appreciation for his husband's long-awaited confidence in wearing shorts, snug ones at that -when he notices him staring into the distance and rapidly flapping his hand at Genji. Both of them turn to where he's looking, Zen following quickly, and discover a towering mama moose and her two babies wading placidly about thirty yards from them. Jesse excitedly clicks away while the mother stops to pull at some reeds with her massive snout, the little ones bumbling around her feet on gangly stilt-legs. 

 

“Jesus, I didn't know they were this big,” Genji whispers, stilling with his palms against Zen's wheelchair handles. “Aren't they known for being a little aggressive?” 

 

“Only if you invade their space or threaten their young, understandably,” Zenyatta replies, pulling up his pocket binoculars and sighing. “These ones are probably somewhat used to humans. We have nothing to fear.” 

 

“Babe, don't make that face, we're not adopting one,” Genji chuckles, bending to kiss his husband's temple. “Chuck wrecks our place enough as it is, and she's only eight pounds.” 

 

“Reminds me of Nara Park,” Hanzo adds after a few quiet moments, the moose family slowly retreating into the spruce trees. “Wrong species, but still. Did you go there for your middle school trip? I can't remember.” 

 

“Oh yeah, spent most of our time at the museum and Tōdai-ji, though. Which was super lame in my dumbass opinion,” Genji snickers, cleaning his glasses on his bright yellow tank top and examining them in the sunlight. “But I made out with a cute girl at the fireworks, so it wasn't all bad.” 

 

Jesse snorts, resuming their path. “You really had your priorities in order.” 

 

“Pft, try and find a fourteen-year-old boy who doesn't put getting to first-and-a-half base over any kind of culture,” Genji glances sideways as he pushes Zen's chair, letting the younger man rest his hands. “Besides my brother, I mean.” 

 

“Is that supposed to be an insult?” Hanzo scoffs. Jesse can hear his grin without having to look. 

 

“Not at all,” Genji smirks back and lightly punches his arm. “You had your mind on other things, that's called maturity.” 

 

“I mean, I call it being a Kinsey six, but if you insist.” 

 

They laugh, the sound echoing as they enter the restful shade of the forest. Jesse steps off the boardwalk a few times to snap more photos. Everywhere he turns there seems to be another little flower, impressively ancient tree, or glimpse of an animal they don't get to see back home. Cities are convenient and all, and theirs is comparatively small with some unspoiled land around the edges, but he still wants to retire somewhere wide open and peaceful. Maybe not out where the ambulances don't run, but where they could have a big old yard and not be bothered by anyone but family. Maybe someday. They're only playing at being old for now. 

 

They stop in front of a gorgeous sheer rock face and Zen helps him figure out the timer on his camera, using a fallen pine as a tripod to take what might well be the clumsiest family vacation photo. They return to the visitors centre for lunch and lots of water at a picnic table, then wander along the observation deck. They get to the farthest point out before Genji realizes that yes indeed, he still gets vertigo, and decides to nip into the souvenir store with Zen, his brother's worried gaze following them for a moment. 

 

“Goddamn, can you imagine what this looks like in the fall?” Jesse cups the supple curve of Hanzo's waist, Den's cold nose brushing against his calves. The valley of dark summer green and wide glassy blue spills out before them like a painting come to life. “I'll give this place credit, actual seasons make all that winter bullshit almost worth it.” 

 

“Maybe we could come back in the autumn, next year,” Hanzo leans against him, though they're both smelling a little ripe after taking a peek at the camp showers and collectively voting no-thank-you. “We could bring your sisters. Well- Olivia might give it a pass, now that I think about it.” 

 

“Really? You'd wanna come back?” Jesse returns Hanzo's agreeable, relaxed smile. “All this from the man who swore to never sleep outdoors again.” 

 

“That was in a very heated moment, it was a vow of no substance,” Hanzo chuckles, pausing as Jesse thumbs along his elastic waistband, skimming the visible half-inch of bare skin. “But I very sincerely never want to see a javelina again for as long as I live.” 

 

Jesse laughs and plants a quick smooch on him. “Fair enough, darlin'.” 

 

Genji and Zen reemerge with a stuffed moose and a stack of postcards and photo prints respectively. Hanzo hands off Den's leash to his brother and they head inside, poking around the dioramas a bit before Jesse picks out a ridiculous souvenir t-shirt in his size and Hanzo purchases a book. They decide to tackle the short logging museum trail, finding the exhibits a bit hokey, meant for children like the camp group a few paces ahead of them. Genji yanks his brother up to pose on a few displays to the delight of Zen's laughter and Jesse's lens. 

 

The trail itself is lovely, wide and flat with trees so tall they can barely see the sky. Shadows shimmer over them as the cicadas _zreee-zreee_ loudly in their late summer frenzy. Birds hop along the path, scattering at their approach but never landing far away. Genji eagerly taps his husband's shoulder when he they break to munch on granola bars. “Oh, do the Snow White thing! They've never seen it, they'll be really impressed!” 

 

“I don't think we're supposed to feed the animals here,” Zenyatta replies, covering his full mouth with one hand. “And the birds at the monastery are used to me, it took me months to get them to do it.” 

 

“C'mon, a few crumbs won't hurt,” Genji spins on his heel at Zen's beleaguered nod and starts pushing Hanzo and Jesse. “Here- over here, this is gonna be so cool!” 

 

Despite their confusion, they let Genji shove them and Den behind a girthy tree and give the thumbs-up to an amused Zenyatta. Crumbling the last of his snack into the palm of his hand, he holds it out near the ground and stays statue still, performing an uncanny imitation of a chickadee call. The group of songbirds get curious and hop closer, closer, until an especially brave one cautiously flits onto his hand and takes their fill of the seeds, letting Zen lift him up slowly to lap-height. For a slender moment, with his beatific smile, sun-soaked skin, fruit-coloured halter top and gauzy slacks, Zen resembles a forest spirit who has mysteriously joined them on their quest. 

 

“That's a pretty nifty trick!” Jesse notes as they emerge from their hiding spot once the bird flutters off with its friends. 

 

“Isn't it though? He can do cardinals too, and finches and robins,” Genji beams with pride, hugging Zen fiercely from behind. “He's pure of heart, I bet he could attract a unicorn if he tried.” 

 

“It's just whistling, there's nothing special about it,” Zen scoffs sweetly, squeezing Genji back. 

 

They're a warm and sweaty bunch by the time they pile back into the car. Just when Jesse thought he'd hit his peak for summer freckles, his arm decided it had some leftover melanin after all, as had Zenyatta's nose much to his husband's affectionate delight. Hanzo's sunscreen worked everywhere but his ears, leaving them with a cute but stinging pink flush. Genji itches himself silly on the drive back to the campsite, finally dropping onto a log beside the fire-pit and letting Zen lift up the back of his shirt. “Oh goodness, I've never seen your heatrash this bad.” 

 

“Seriously?” Genji tries to wrench around and look, but the range of motion in his neck is still pretty restricted. “All I did was walk around!” 

 

Jesse leans over and whistles sympathetically at the blotchy, irritated sight. “Looks like you tried to use outdoor carpeting as a slip'n'slide.” 

 

“Goddammit,” Genji pouts, letting Zen peel his sweat-soaked tank top all the way off. “Angela says I have the skin of an immuno-suppressed newborn baby. They can stick metal in me to make my bones work, but they can't fix this?” 

 

“That explains why Kaa-san used to buy diaper cream by the case for you,” Hanzo teases, but his eyebrows are knit as he inches towards the first aid kit in the car. “Would aloe help?” 

 

“No, it just needs to be cooled off and cleaned.” Zen retrieves a small cloth and a fresh bottle of water, soaking the former and gently wiping down Genji's back. The green-haired man sits with his elbows on his knees, frown dissipating and head tilting forward, eyes sliding shut as Zen diligently tends to him. Jesse smiles, stripping his own shirt and changing his socks. That's a feeling he recognizes on sight. 

 

They all end up shirtless in solidarity, Genji and Hanzo down to their boxers, confident in their enclosed surroundings and feeling the weight of the broth-like humidity. Den inhales his water and crunchies noisily while Hanzo inspects him for ticks. Zen and Jesse get the fire going, and Genji carefully washes and sharpens some suitable sticks so they can fry their veggie dogs the proper way. 

 

S'mores are assembled and eaten with great enthusiasm. Zenyatta's on his third when Genji turns to him with an impish smirk, gesturing to his chipmunk-cheek and vegetarian marshmallow-stained fingers, saying he's tempted to marry him all over again, then cackles at the sticky, vengeful kiss pressed to his face. 

 

The sun slips below the horizon and they break out the booze. Nothing to his and Hanzo's usual proof, not wanting to be caught unawares if the tent collapsed, or someone got hurt, or Genji's concerns about bears actually came true. Decent beer and some hard cherry colas all that's needed for a good summer buzz. Zen's cheeks flush with it, having so long abstained from alcohol as to be rendered a total lightweight. 

 

Genji, going through similar dry periods courtesy of his rotating assortment of meds, is only a little better off. He waves one arm towards the water, startling Den, who was asleep at his feet. “It's so hot- we should go swimming! The water's not that deep, I bet we could all get in and splash around no problem.” 

 

“Except we have no swimsuits,” Hanzo chuckles, swiping foam from his beard. “And I'm not interested in skinny-dipping.” 

 

“Why not? You and Zen are the only ones who haven't seen each other naked,” Genji scratches at his bare, still red-dotted shoulders. “Might as well cross that bridge now we're all related and stuff.” 

 

“We also have nothing to float with,” Hanzo chews on his lip, belatedly processing a thought. “Not jealous, but just wondering- when have you and Jesse seen each other naked?” 

 

“At that spa-sauna thing next to the good sex toy shop, it's all naked all the time in there.” Genji pops the tab off his beer and drops it into the empty can. “We used to go all the time because it was the only self-care my unemployed ass could afford, eh, Jesse?” 

 

“S'right. Honestly, most welcomin' place I've ever been in,” Jesse gestures towards Hanzo with his drink. Perhaps later he'll suggest they go there alone sometime. Hanzo's come a long way in the past few years in terms of comfort in his own skin, but it's still a question best saved for private. 

 

“Oh yes, that one,” Zenyatta adds, a small light bulb seeming to go on inside his head. “I went there often in graduate school, but it was a bathhouse back then.” 

 

“Wait, really?” Genji pauses in the midst of slapping together another s'more. “When did it stop- or is it still-? I feel like we would have noticed, right?” 

 

“I mean, I never saw any reacharounds happenin' in the showers, but I wasn't looking,” Jesse shrugs, lips quickly curving on a teasing grin. “Never took you for the cruisin' type, Zen. That's wild.” 

 

“Oh, well, I don't know about type,” Zen chuckles behind his hand. “I was a busy young man with needs and well- I couldn't exactly bring anyone home with me, not to mention most men my age living in walk-up flats- it served my purposes well. And the company wasn't half-bad either.” He takes a final sip of his cola, savouring the taste while Hanzo and Jesse laugh in disbelief. “Until I saw one of the undergrads from my TA section there, and that put an end to that.” 

 

The pair shudder in sympathy while Genji laughs softly and pulls Zen clumsily into his arms, scarred skin golden against his husband's bare chest. “Aren't you glad you found me and left your sordid past behind?” 

 

Zen giggles, leaning back against Genji and reaching up to pat his cheek. “I'm fairly certain there's nothing that could make me more grateful for you than I already am, but I welcome being surprised.” 

 

“Ahem, may I remind you kids that we're the newlyweds here?” Jesse hauls Hanzo in close, distracting him from the thorough ear-scratching he'd been giving Den, the dog whimpering in disappointment. “Sappy shit is our thing now, you two need to back off.” 

 

“Fine then, put up or shut up,” Genji replies with feigned haughtiness, letting Zen sneak a bite of his s'more. “Say something sappy to Hanzo, right now. I double dare you.” 

 

“Alright, I will! Just to-” 

 

“Jesse, are you from Tennessee?” Hanzo interrupts, peering up at him with a self-satisfied grin and a little pink in his cheeks, barely visible in the firelight. “Because you're the only ten I see.” 

 

A roar of laughter bursts out of Jesse's chest. He presses a smacking kiss to Hanzo's forehead. “No I'm not, but are you a parking ticket? Because-” 

 

“Oh my god- no. No no no,” Genji gripes and lobs a marshmallow at them. “Cut that shit out right now.” 

 

They roll into bed not long afterwards, the wind picking up and rattling the plastic poles. Den paces and whines until Genji tugs him down for use as a fluffy body pillow. The lingering buzz of the liquor dulls their senses just enough to fall asleep. Zen has his phone on with an alarm for sunrise, but Jesse wakes up in the pale dark anyway, his internal clock always set a little too early. He checks his watch and lets his mind wander until about ten minutes to, sitting up and turning the lantern on its lowest setting. They'll all need a little wake-up time, or they'll just end up nodding off outside. 

 

In the dim glow, he finds Hanzo asleep on his back, greying hair tangled on the pillow and lips parted on a slight snore. Genji has somehow migrated away from Zen and across the pad to mash his face against Hanzo's shoulder. A small drool puddle staining under his cheek and one fist balled in Hanzo's t-shirt as he saws logs. Hanzo's right hand rests protectively on the back of his brother's head, fingers tense there but the rest of him otherwise relaxed, his cheek pressed to Genji's forehead. Jesse is helpless but to smile, recalling the fondness in Hanzo's eyes when he'd mentioned the two of them happily sharing a futon when they were very small. 

 

He looks up at the sound of a small gasp, finding Zen propped up on an elbow and equally enamoured. He reaches one hand out to carefully grab his phone, click the flash off and snap a picture of the two in the thin electric light. Jesse chuckles and Zen holds one finger to his lips, grinning widely before the alarm beeps to life. The brothers stretch and roll away from each other, groaning and oblivious. Den kicks himself out of sleep at their feet and walks around snuffling, settling on urgently licking Jesse's scruffy cheeks. “Heh, I know, I'm up. There's my good boy.” 

 

The warmth of five bodies bundled in an enclosed space makes the slight chill outside come as a real shock. All the humidity sucked away overnight, making the dawn breeze feel like a frosty breath of fall. The others hide under their covers while Jesse braves it to grab their pants and hoodies from the car, gentleman that he is. Suitably bundled in grey, black, plaid, and orange, they sit at the very edge of the water. Huddling together and mindful of the slippery dew on the river rocks, they watch the yellow disk slide up from behind the forest, parting the haze over the water and rinsing everything in gold while the loons call to each other, echoing like old ghosts in the buzzing quiet. 

 

Genji huffs a laugh against Zenyatta's shoulder. “Yeah, this is the good shit.” 

 

Morning rituals of many kinds precede one last struggling fire. Zenyatta whips up some delicious-smelling well-seasoned rice that should last them through lunch while Jesse and the Shimadas get on the topic of travel. Jesse rhymes off the cities still on his bucket list, only to be interrupted by them taunting him for his pronunciation of New Orleans. Genji finds it particularly funny and asks Jesse what the English language ever did to him. 

 

“That's how you say it! And don't think I'm taking that bait,” Jesse jabs a finger in his brother-in-law's thin ribs. “Not this time, bucko.” 

 

Genji turns his jeering smile to his brother, leaning in to him. “You've always had a thing for hicks, haven't you? Like that zūzū-ben guy in high school!” 

 

“You're never going to let that one go, are you?” Hanzo drawls, barely phrasing it as a question. 

 

Jesse pushes himself up from his log, ruffling Den's ears on his way by. “Y'wanna say that again, Genji?” 

 

“Why? Do you need me to say it slower?” 

 

“Alright, that's it!” Jesse's teeth come out on a smirk, catching hold of him when he leaps up, laughing and tripping over his feet. He manages to hoist him up by the waist with his good arm, though Genji gets some good jabs in. “Into the river we go, it's been nice knowing ya.” 

 

“No, don't! I'm very expensive!” Genji shakes with their shared laughter, supporting himself as much as pushing himself away on Jesse's shoulder. “Save me, anija! Don't let all Angela's hard work go to waste!” 

 

Hanzo simply laughs around a mouthful of Zenyatta's rice as the two carry on roughhousing, Jesse grinning up at him. “What if I just dunk your head, then? That can't be worth more than fifty cents.” 

 

The morning passes in a pleasant haze, all four trying to draw out their remaining time as best they can. Jesse stokes the fire and throws Den's slobbery tennis ball endlessly, trying to wear him out so he won't get too restless on the drive home. Zen invites Hanzo to meditate with himself and Genji. He passes, saying he wants to get some sketching in. Zen smiles and nods approvingly. “Ah, different methods, same result.” 

 

Zen and Genji tuck themselves off behind the treeline, far enough to push away distractions without raising Jesse's suspicion that they're not really meditating. Den finally abandons his ball in favour of his water dish and a roll in the dirt. Jesse snorts and looks up, finding Hanzo perched on a nearby rock, already bent over his sketchbook. 

 

There's just enough room for Jesse to fit himself behind his husband, slipping his arm around his waist and resting his chin on his shoulder. They're properly foul now, smelling musky and Hanzo's hair greasier than he normally allows. The skin of his neck faintly tanned and prickling at the scrape of Jesse's beard. His fingers are already blackened, tasked with holding down the paper and smudging the sharp lines of his 2B into something soft and refined. “That looks real good, sugar.” 

 

“I've barely started,” Hanzo scoffs, wetting his lips in concentration. “I don't draw landscapes enough, I thought I'd get some practice in.” 

 

Jesse hums, leaning a little of his weight onto Hanzo's broad back and closing his eyes. The breeze is constant but not disruptive, coolly lifting their hair and trembling the branches overhead. He tightens his grip slightly, feeling the warmth of Hanzo's stomach through his sunshine-warmed black hoodie. “Mm, you're gettin' soft here again, pumpkin.” 

 

Hanzo snorts, eyes on his paper. “That's because someone's been keeping me so well-fed.” 

 

Jesse chuckles, dragging a kiss across the side of his husband's neck. “I like it, looks good on ya.” He nuzzles beneath his ear and palms the growing pudge. Hanzo had initially upped his exercise regimen when he'd discovered an inch to pinch. Not out of vanity, but an unspoken fear of early decay and death, like his father and grandfather. Jesse had never known enough about his blood family to track anything like that, letting himself twist in the wind and figuring he'll get whatever's coming to him whenever he's due for it. But the fear in Hanzo's eyes had been too clear, too cold and familiar.“Feels good too, like you're comfortable inside n'out. Makes holdin' onto ya even nicer.” 

 

Hanzo chuckles softly, pencil flicking away, turning little ticks into twisted bark and twee leaves. He straightens and settles back, pressing himself closer. “Well, perhaps I can learn to live with it if it lets you experience what I feel when you're in my arms. That's a luxury worth sharing.” 

 

And there it is again- the liquid-soft stare and the laugh lines curling around that sweet mouth and the way they slot together so well. These moments at once endless and never enough amongst the thousand tasks and tribulations of each day. Jesse responses with a kiss on that damn-handsome face, as he always does, tasting the sugar from Hanzo's stash of fruit stripes on those soft, eager lips. 

 

Their packing is reluctant but thorough, lingering around the site and breathing in that good, healthy air. Genji washes up the 'cool rocks' he and Hanzo found and ties them in a grocery bag in the back. They're quiet on the drive out, contemplation finally leaving them when they return their equipment and hit the highway again, jabbering away even when they run into traffic and have to periodically curse at the people pointlessly honking or cutting them off during rare moments of movement. They linger at dinnertime to let the cars clear off, telling stories over the windiness of the highway exit as they splinter their elbows on the table and lick their fingers to clear up the salt from their fries. 

 

Zen is overcome by a 'nap attack' as soon as their food starts to digest. Genji teases him for it while giving him a boost into the backseat, but conks out on his husband's shoulder just as quickly. The sun burns Jesse's retinas despite his sunglasses, finally dropping behind the hilly dairy farms beyond the metal guardrails. Hanzo's phone glows bright white in the sudden dark until he puts it away and stares idly out the window at the tortoiseshell-clouded night sky, one hand tracing circles into his partner's denim-covered knee. 

 

Jesse's checking on the backseat through the rear-view- Genji's seat-belt is holding him up admirably while Zenyatta resembles a slumbering statue -when one of his songs comes on the playlist. One Hanzo initially laughs in recognition at, from one of Jesse's few beloved childhood movies that they'd watched, pajama-clad, on a lazy weeknight back when their merged silverware and new linens were still sitting in Sharpie-labelled boxes. 

 

Hanzo starts singing first in his low, raspy timbre. His glimmering brown eyes still directed out the window, voice shining with amusement when Den sticks his nose between their seats, keening for attention. Jesse steals a glance at him and joins in, earning a squeeze of his thigh and an unseen, brilliant smile. They find their harmony with little trouble now, but Jesse always hushes himself just enough to better hear Hanzo's notes, as warm and familiar as an old blanket around his shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading all! I can't tell you how much all the sweet comments and kudos mean to me, you're lovely, every one of you <3  
> Lighter fare this time! The park they're in is loosely based on Algonquin Park, where I have never gone because I've never been camping! /bad Canadian 
> 
> Things Genji and Hanzo have had legitimate arguments about in their 30's: 1. Sartorial choices 2. Music 3. Their feelings, sometimes 
> 
> Bonus headcanons! My incomplete and by no-means-definitive HCs for the boys' music tastes:  
> Hanzo- Frank Turner obvs (shoutout to Dilfosaur for turning me on to his music and the hc of Hanzo being a fan, it fits like /kisses fingers) and folk rock in general, more hardcore punk rock but he's gotten picky about it, hip-hop that only partly overlaps with Genji's tastes  
> McCree- Johnny Cash/Dolly Parton/most country that isn't stadium country, classic rock-mostly 70's/80's, ballads that he cranks when cleaning the house alone  
> Genji- More hardcore hip-hop than Hanzo's, J-pop and J-Rock from his younger days and shows he likes, EDM 'but only the good stuff'  
> Zenyatta- Soft indie stuff and baroque pop (like Feist and basically anything with a harpsichord in it), movie & musical songs and instrumentals, and Daft Punk, so much Daft Punk good gosh it's like Interstella 5555 up in here  
> Also if anyone felt personally affected by Genji's mostly-teasing drag of his coworkers' music tastes, I assure you that was a self-drag on the part of the author :'D. Also insert any late 2000's pop diva of your choice for that scene.  
> (The song Jesse and Hanzo are singing is America's The Last Unicorn in my head, but taster's choice for that one as well)


	3. Make

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set some time after the beginning of 'Warmth' but before Genji and Zenyatta get hitched.  
> Heads up for vanilla-flavoured smut (if it's not your thing, that's cool! I won't be combining fully NSFW content and plot-relevant content at any point so as not to leave anyone out, this is just some Sweet Boys being Sweet Boys).

Zenyatta shuts their apartment door with a great sigh. He had ridden the bus home on autopilot and now feels fitful, exactly as keyed up as he'd been in his office. 

A petite tabby cat dutifully trots over, miaowing and leaping onto the small shelf where they keep their keys and spare change. He scratches her chin with one hand and unbuttons his overcoat with the other. Spring remains persistently wet and wintery, a frigid chill clinging to the outerwear he slings into the closet and sending him shivering into the bedroom. 

He backs his electrical wheelchair into the corner and plugs it in for a charge. The battery seems to run a little lower every day, and it will be such a pain to replace it again, he frowns as he lifts himself into his manual chair. Checking their much-scribbled-upon Moomin wall calendar, he discovers that Genji won't be home until nearly seven and elects to keep himself busy until then. 

Except he can't. He pulls his current novel from his knapsack and reads the same page at least five times. The chiming, brightly-coloured world of the DS game Hana has most recently lent him bores him immediately, getting shut off after barely a level. Minor to-do's seem pointless. The thought of slipping into his femmier, lacier things and surprising Genji also lacks appeal. He doesn't feel overly femme or much of anything, really. Aside from an all-encompassing _blah._

Not even prayer lifts his spirits. Head bent and incense lit upon the unplugged kotatsu, mala in his hands and eyes closed. As natural to him as Chuck's insistent purring and rubbing at his back is to her. Mondatta had long encouraged him, and later the other Shambali, to make it a conversation, to leave one's worries over there and pass through the Iris with a truly clear mind, free from judgment and grounded in reality. Today it just feels petty, picking irksome things from his mind like pilled threads as they spill over into their dreaded continuation tomorrow. He withdraws in mild embarrassment, restlessly climbing back into his chair. 

He settles on being productive, his least favourite way to measure his time. Stooped over in the storage closet next to the bathroom, cleaning out Chuck's litter box while she supervises him with unblinking vigilance. He's nearly done when the door rattles and Genji bounds in. He answers his cheerful call and feels something between guilt and detachment as a welcome-home smooch is planted on his cheek. 

Genji barely summarizes his morning shift, afternoon class, and mixed feelings regarding another visit to the student health centre before he notices, his attentive nature turned so brilliantly outwards over the years. “What's up? How'd the bastards get you down today?” 

“Have I been complaining that much?” Zen gripes, chiding himself with his tone. He continues to scoop while Genji perches on a clear plastic tub of Halloween and Pride decorations. “It wasn't so bad, just the usual. The staff meeting went overtime and accomplished nothing, the managers are demanding more results with less funding, and everyone was sniping at each other over an email I sent that clearly wasn't intended to be passive-aggressive unless one purposefully read it-!” Zenyatta stops himself, massaging his temple with his clean hand. “Forgive me, it's the time of year. I barely have time to wash my dishes at the end of the day, let alone attend to every little task that lands in my lap.” 

“Well I mean, it's not like you're that busy. You just sit around and talk about feelings all day, right? That's nothing,” Genji's grin turns mawkish, waving a dismissive hand while Zen chuckles darkly, more of a groan than anything. “It'll get better soon, I'm sure. Deadlines always wring everyone out.” 

“I hope so,” Zen replies, sighing through his nose. “It's only that- at times like this- or maybe just in general, I wonder if I'm really helping anyone. Most of my time feels so removed from what I claimed I would be doing.” He ties a neat knot in the plastic grocery bag of waste and quickly tips a new litter container into the box, turning away to avoid the particulate dust. “Maybe I'm still naive. I made such a fuss to Mondatta and the others about hands-on work, they must take me for a fraud now-” 

“Hey,” Genji softly cuts him off, coming down on bended knee and taking Zen's face in his cold-nipped hands. “Look at me.” He waits, sweet man, and smiles so earnestly when their eyes meet, glasses perched precariously on the end of his nose. “No one thinks that about you, I promise. You work very hard. I know it wears you out and you don't always feel appreciated, but that place would fall apart without you.” 

Zen snorts, glancing away as thumbs brush across his cheekbones. “That is blatantly untrue.” 

“It is not! Just think, how many STIs have you prevented by refilling the free condom jar when no one else will?” Genji's face alights at Zen's laugh, shoulders shaking. He leans in as he gently tugs him down, bestowing a deep, lingering kiss and pulling back with a knowing smile. “Why don't you leave everything to me tonight, hm? Then tomorrow we can sleep in and spend the day together. I'm fully committed to ignoring my assignments until Saturday, at least.” 

“But tomorrow is-” Zen's tongue catches on his teeth, a brief glimpse of the calendar in his mind as he laughs in mild embarrassment. “A holiday, of course. I wondered why everyone kept wishing me a good weekend.” 

Genji fairly cackles, cradling his cheeks. “You have had a long week, haven't you?” Another kiss, soft beside the painted dots on his forehead. “Go put your comfies on, I'll take care of dinner.” 

Zen can hardly refuse, leaving Chuck to make a mess of her fresh litter while he slips into his well-worn oversized yellow sweatshirt and a pair of brilliant red and gold trousers, stitched together by Sita with fabric from her older sister in Kathmandu. He slips out to water the plants on their balcony, getting stopped for yet another smooch and some affectionate, almost stimming rubs along his thighs on his way back. 

Genji artfully throws together a half-baked, half-veggie and half-pepperoni pizza, dotted with the mayonnaise Zenyatta has come to enjoy. He's amused by the focus in Genji's expression any time his mind or hands are busy, scarred lips pulling to one side or the other as he spins on the rickety stool, a thrifted means for him to more comfortably use the lower kitchen counters. While their supper cooks, Zen sorts the recycling and downloads some supermarket coupons to the muffled duet of Genji's voice and his portable speaker warbling over the shower. 

Bellies full, meds swallowed, dishes abandoned to soak, Genji slips off his leg and flops backwards on the couch, making grabby-hands when Zenyatta nears. “I'm coming, I'm coming,” he chuckles, at last crawling over and settling himself atop the heated, bony mattress of his boyfriend. 

“You can pick whatever you-” Genji balks as Zen claps a hand over his mouth to stifle a hearty belch, grinning broadly. “Want. That was _impressive._ ” 

“Tomatoes always do that to me,” Zenyatta snorts, hiccuping and accepting the remote pressed into his hand. “Do you mind if we rewatch something? I have a slight craving.” 

“Go for it,” Genji nuzzles his temple, sinking comfortably into the foam beneath them. Zen taps through a few slightly unresponsive menus while Genji snickers ceaselessly at his phone. “Hanzo's stuck between an evening shift and a big fat commission deadline. I'm helping.” 

“By spamming him with memes?” Zenyatta arches an eyebrow, giggling at Genji's enthusiastic nod. “How kind. Tell him I say hello.” 

Pastel cartoon antics play across their smallish screen, still entertaining despite their familiarity. The brief episodes and Genji's hand rubbing soothing circles between his shoulder blades is enough to transport him. The clenched fists of his mind uncurl, letting his inconsequential worries go temporarily. 

Restlessness creeps back in as the last credits roll, Zenyatta clinging tight and letting the screenprinted logo of Genji's t-shirt dig into his cheek a little longer. The pinging of an alarm on his phone raises them both to sitting. Genji cheerfully assists Zen in his thrice-daily range of motion exercises, no longer needing reassurance that he won't hurt him by putting his ankles and knees through their paces. Zen's as grateful for the help as he is for the subsequent, routine affection that a newly-minted student Genji had dubbed 'positive reinforcement.' 

“Go take a nice, hot shower,” Genji urges, at once crooning and mischievous, interlocking their fingers on Zenyatta's lap. “There might be a little surprise waiting for you when you get out.” 

Zenyatta smirks, washes thoroughly, and returns bare-chested and dripping. Genji's pose is comically exaggerated, his bright green hair painted soft by the light of the spice-smelling candles on the dresser and nightstands. He hitches himself up on one elbow to pat the garishly-printed beach towel beside him, grey boxers clinging so nicely to his narrow hips. “I must say, it's not much of a surprise if it's exactly what I expected.” 

“Ah, but that's where you're wrong! This isn't mere seduction,” Genji rolls over, grabbing a dollar-store glass jar filled with opaque oil and waving it grandly. “This is to be a massage of the finest quality, followed by seduction. If you don't fall asleep, that is.” 

Zenyatta smiles, giving a slight nod of his head. “I shall do my best to stay the course.” 

Flat on his belly, arms pillowed beneath his head, Zenyatta hums at the weight of Genji straddling his bum, shifted a little to his left for balance. He's always had a sensitive back, prickling at the lightest grazes of his lover's fingertips. Tracing shapes, lightly scratching, and finally running them quickly up and down his sides to make him shiver deliciously. He catches himself on a sigh when the oil is finally cracked open, the soporific scent wafting over him with the first sweep of broad, slick palms over his shoulders. 

“Lavender and rosemary. Nice, isn't it?” Genji's chuckles at Zenyatta's wordless reply, shaking them both. He can't help it, he didn't realize how rigidly he's been holding himself all day- perhaps all week. His groan is almost pained when thumbs dig into his lower back, but it's a sweet pain. 

Genji is patient, a skill so well-learned as to appear innate. He does not rush, let his attentions grow sloppy, or push for more. Seemingly intent on squeezing every drop of tension from Zen's frame, he even scratches with gentle repetition along the back of his neck, sending pleasant chills down his spine and up behind his eyes. Though turned completely to mush, he feels a little twitch of interest when Genji shifts back and unintentionally rubs against him. He had only bothered with boxers so as not to be too presumptuous, and Genji has seemingly done the same. Or, more likely, to keep his own arousal at bay while he focuses on Zenyatta. 

It is so fitting of him, so oddly subdued in his generosity. And yet, Zen desires more than the anaesthesia of sleep. He slightly tenses his shoulders and waits for Genji to reach for them, very deliberately rolling his hips back and grinding against him at the right moment. He pauses, and Zen can almost see his slow grin. Genji dutifully wraps up the massage with one last full sweep of his hands before slipping his arms beneath Zenyatta's chest. Curling his warm body over Zenyatta's back, holding tight and kissing wetly along the curve of his shoulder. 

The twist to angle for his lips is awkward, only made slightly easier by the slide of the oil between them. One uncomfortable grunt and Genji's rolling off and beneath him, fumbling upwards and mouth tasting of peppermint. Zen grips the sheets beneath to drag their clothed cocks together and make them both moan, hushed and needy in their throats. He lifts his head when nudged, granting Genji access to his neck and biting his lip at the teasing graze of teeth and- 

The loud interruption of a screeching miaow in their ears. Chuck stands on the pillow beside them, wide-eyed and disinterested in their intimacy. She continues her tirade until Genji curses and gently shoves her off the bed. “Anyway, where were we-” 

Chuck leaps back up, soundless on nimble grey paws, and continues yanging at them. Genji's second push is mistaken for play-fighting, and she throws her whole body around his hand, nipping and latching on for dear life. “Ow! Let go, you little shit, get lost!” 

“Is she hungry?” Zen asks as Genji withdraws a thinly-scratched hand, lacking sympathy since he was the one who taught her to play rough. 

“I gave her wet food, one of the big cans!” Genji scowls accusingly as she pads closer and stands on his hair, still yowling. “I'm not feeding you again, you liar.” 

“Yes, but she usually eats her crunchies around this time,” Zen presses his lips together, holding himself up on his palms. “And if she can see the bottom of the bowl-” 

“Ughhhh,” Genji throws his head back dramatically, scrabbling up when Zenyatta leans to one side. He grabs at his forearm crutches, knocking them over and swearing quietly until he hoists himself up and aims his best glare at their small, slightly pudgy housepet. “You have made a powerful enemy today, Charlotte Tekhartha-Shimada. You will do well not to forget this.” 

The cat mews anxiously and hops down to chase after Genji, swinging himself forward with a frown and the outline of his erection visible through his underwear. 

Zenyatta guffaws with impunity, laying on his back and lazily palming himself until the ceramic bowl is thoroughly shaken and the door is shut fast behind Genji. “I checked the stove and the deadbolt too, aren't I a good boyfriend?” 

“The very best,” he demures, catching the soft curve of a smile against his lips as he's cradled close, a hand under his neck and their bodies slotting together so nicely. They giggle when their teeth click, Zen's hands sliding down Genji's waist to grab two plump handfuls and rut their cocks together again. 

Genji's laugh is breathless below his ear, eyelashes skimming along sensitive skin as he works his way down. No inch of Zenyatta's body goes untended when Genji is permitted opportunity and time. His mouth charts the topography of shoulder, collarbones, and chest, laying an especially sentimental kiss over his heart before moving to suck gently at one of his small, inverted nipples, the sensation at once sating and ticklish. 

Zenyatta arches, keening softly and knotting his fingers in vivid green hair, scraping along the scalp where it's shifted to subdued grey and sharp black. Genji's cheek is like baby skin under his fingers. “Oh, you shaved.” 

“You're quick today,” Genji smirks, pushing affectionately into his palm and turning to press kisses there. “How do you want me?” 

Zenyatta hums, smoothing back Genji's messy locks as his belly is kissed, chuckling when Genji nuzzles at the soft trail of hair near his navel. “What would you like to do?” 

“Anything,” Genji answers readily, light dancing in his eyes. “Well, besides ride you. Pizza always makes for a bad day to bottom.” 

Zenyatta gut-laughs, Genji joining in, legs curled up and his upper half shaking in the frame of Zen's thighs. Fingers trace curiously along an elastic waistband and desire overtakes Zenyatta's tongue, a hand coquettishly resting on his cheek. “Will you go down on me?” 

“Absolutely,” Genji's grin turns hungry, though he moves no faster. Nipping across his thighs, mouthing along the skin graft scars and little white lightening stripes leftover from a puberty that stretched Zenyatta to six feet. Zen slightly whines when he pulls away, hips tilting up involuntarily, but Genji is only grabbing a pillow so he can kneel on the floor, as is his preference. Zenyatta lets himself be yanked until his bum is at the edge of the bed, and he asks Genji if he's really comfortable like that, as he always does. 

Zenyatta manages to stay half-sitting up while his underwear is dragged away and he's stroked to full hardness, blood pumping with every pass of slicked fingers. At the first slip of a tongue along the underside, he lets himself fall back, mind still fuzzy from the massage, now thoroughly scrambled as those perfect hands and tongue work him so well. Light touches tightening and twisting and finally swollen lips wrapping around the sensitive head. A thumb kneading against his perineum, an inquisitive tongue dipping into his slit and he moans. His breath picks up and he lets himself beg. 

He's unafraid, no family within awkward hearing range and their neighbours shielded by thick concrete walls. Genji enjoys making him loud, raining sensual touches upon him until he can't help it. He likes being noisy himself, wholly unashamed and sloppy with lips tucked over his teeth. He also likes a hand at the base of his skull, a little help to guide him right to the base. Best of all, he likes praise and Zenyatta is only too happy to provide. Genji is so good, so very good, he treats him so well, and when Zenyatta slowly pulls his hair and Genji's groan rattles around him, he can barely stand it. 

“You sound so good, you're gorgeous like this,” Genji murmurs when he backs off for a break, voice all rough. His hands keep stroking and circling, teasing whimpers from Zen's chest. “Do you want me to- okay, okay. God, you're so cute.” 

His eyes are shut tight when Zen manages to open his again, always taking the matter of pleasing his partner so seriously. Zenyatta had worried for some time, given what he knew of Genji's teens, that pleasure was something he had learned to perform for others before he truly experienced it himself. But he hopes- he knows that when they make love, it's more than that, it's for both of them, it's always- 

“Genji, oh, Genji-” Zenyatta heaves, blindly grabbing for his free hand and gripping hard. “Close!” 

Genji hums, steals a ragged breath, and swallows him deep. Zenyatta's voice cracks, coming hard as everything narrows to wet heat, muscles pulling taut and releasing into liquid relief. He pants for air as he shallowly rocks up, milking the last few aftershocks into his lover's body. Genji politely licks his oversensitive cock clean and Zenyatta's eyes nearly water for it. 

The post-orgasmic high leaves him trembling all over, laughter slipping from him as he pushes himself up on clumsy elbows. He finds Genji still kneeling, cheek pressed to Zen's inner thigh and hands caressing his skin, his eyelashes casting endearing shadows on his cheeks. His eyes open and meet Zenyatta's gaze, stunningly dark and adoring in their intensity. Zenyatta's throat rasps as he beckons him. “Come here, love. We're not done yet.” 

Genji huffs a laugh and obeys, crawling up to lay in his lover's arms. Their mouths are lazy against each other, Zen not minding the faintly bitter taste of himself on Genji's tongue. They hiss when bodies slip and limbs knock together painfully, chuckling as they twist around to lay properly on the bed. Zenyatta ends up half on top of him, cupping the front of his low-slung underwear and kissing a hot trail up his neck. “You've been so good to me, dear one. What can I do for you?” 

“It's- kinda hard to answer when you're doing tha-aaa-at,” Genji arches up splendidly when Zen sucks at a sensitive spot on his neck. “Oh- oh, fuck.” 

Zenyatta grins wickedly, pulling back and kissing along Genji's jaw, pausing at the corner of his lips and finding his eyes adorably dazed. “Well?” 

Genji snorts, running his hands over Zen's lean arms. “You can do whatever, but- I'd really like your mouth.” 

“Then you shall have it,” Zen smirks and kisses him deeply again. He lavishes some more attention on Genji's neck just to feel him writhe and sigh. Inching himself down, he lays his weight across strong thighs and fastens his mouth to the nipple without a scar bisecting it, tugging slowly and drawing him up as if he were on strings. Genji keeps himself bare here too, the skin silky with traces of oil. He brushes lips and tongue over hasty surgical scars and twitching abdominals, finally locating the spot on his right lower belly that he knows to be the most ticklish and blowing a huge raspberry there. 

Genji nearly screeches with surprised laughter, thrashing to no avail as Zen keeps him pinned, one arm laid across his chest. He wheezes, almost incoherent as he begs for mercy. Zenyatta refuses him until his lips go numb, grinning up at Genji while he heaves, wiping tears from his eyes and still helplessly cackling. He throws a hand dramatically over his forehead. “Oh, Zenyatta, my love, how could you betray me in this way?” 

“Very easily,” Zenyatta replies, blowing one last quick one and making him shriek. He slowly mouths along the line of Genji's cock, salt and damp cloth beneath his tongue, then encourages him to lift his hips so he can pull the underwear off, abandoning it to hang at Genji's ankle. His erection has flagged slightly, and that was partly his intent. Genji's self-imposed performance standards don't end at his partner's climax, resulting in past embarrassment when he finished sooner than he felt appropriate, or frustration when he couldn't stand courtesy of a new medication or simply stress. 

But there is a time for reassurance and self-acceptance discussions, and there is a time to implement a few subtle tricks to ensure his love goes to bed as content and satisfied as himself. Zenyatta smiles softly, sprawling comfortably and kissing at the base of Genji's cock. He noses the soft, heady-scented curls, his tongue flicking out daintily over the tender skin of his sac until he hears Genji's breath catch. Perfect. 

Genji is so beautiful, laid out like this. His summer tan yet acquired, his flush showing up even better as patchy pink from ears to chest. Unable to decide between raking his hands through his hair or scratching his painted nails across Zen's shoulders as he strokes, warm slick sliding over his knuckles and soft flesh pulling stiff. So ready, he's been on edge even longer and it won't take long. Zenyatta grins eagerly, tightening his grip, fully drawing the foreskin back- “Zen, _please,_ ” and taking the swollen head on his tongue. 

Shaking and needy though he is, Genji needs no reminder to still his hips. Zen keeps a hand under his bum, partly for the pleasure of squeezing it and partly for how sensitive Genji can be at the right moments, and the other wrapped around where his mouth doesn't reach. When he needs a break from that just-right stretch of the jaw, he trails his tongue slowly, so slowly along the edge of the glans, smiling at Genji's ecstatic moan of “Yes, like that- _mm._ ” 

He sets to work, tracing along veins and sucking hard at the tip. With sufficient saliva, he swallows around him once, and again, and Genji gets loud. Leg kicking out as he groans and pleads and pants. Zenyatta bobs his head, humming and squeezing in all the right spots, and Genji suddenly goes quiet, voice tight. “N-nearly there.” 

Zen hums again, so thoroughly pleased, and pulls off with a wet pop. He pushes himself to kneeling, gathering more slick with his thumb and making Genji twitch, his other hand gently petting his stump where the scars don't cause pain. Genji's whole body rocks into it, eyes squeezed shut and every muscle tense as he rides the edge. Faintly shining with sweat and teeth biting into his lip as he tries to hold out. Zen's voice is soft, a bit throaty as he strokes, closing his fist snug around the head and working it quickly. “That's it. You've done so well. Let go for me now, let go-” 

Genji launches up, hauling Zen in by the neck for a messy kiss that he moans into as he comes. Zen's eyes shut happily, his hand sliding blindly through the mess. Genji pulls back for air, pressing their sweaty foreheads together and gasping as Zen tugs him through one last spurt. He takes his hand away when Genji shudders with over-sensitivity, chuckling in pride and amusement at the splashes on their stomachs. “Awh, you came so much.” 

“Ff- it's hard not to, with you,” Genji's smile sneaks up on him, glassy-eyed and warm. He wraps his arms around Zen, pulling him close for slow, exploring kisses. Shared breath and fond affirmations, muffled laughter when Genji yanks them onto their sides, limbs trapped awkwardly between them. Zen feels fatigue catching up and worries he'll nod off, until Genji sweetly smooches his cheek and reaches back, retrieving a cloth he'd dampened ahead of time. It's unpleasantly cold between their legs, but it's soon pitched across the room into the laundry hamper, along with the towel and their boxers. 

Candles snuffed and window cracked open to cool night air, Genji draws the covers up, tucking his arm under Zen's pillow as he spoons up behind him. They curl close and comfortable, Genji nuzzling the back of his neck and lightly rubbing his belly while Zen traces his fingers along the complex lines of Genji's tattoo. Hopscotching over the scars and looping over scales, horns, and teeth until sleep takes them both. 

They snooze past eight, a standard of sleeping-in leftover from the monastery's hours that they both still keep to a degree. Zen wakes up woolly-headed, slowly dragged from rambling dreams. A chilly breeze, soft sheets tangled around him, a weight atop his chest- ah, yes, his morning Genji-blanket. Face down on his sternum, limbs wrapped tightly around him, and snoring proudly. 

The buzzing stress and vexing malaise of yesterday seem like distant, half-forgotten memories obliterated in the glow of contentment's hearth, stoked with such tender care by his lover. They might not stay gone for long, and yet he hopes he will always return here. Where he is embraced, teased, and unexpectedly loved exactly as he is. Their home is his most treasured sanctuary, their shared life his greatest blessing. 

Genji stirs, blinking blearily and yawning, hacking a few times before he looks up. His eyes turn soft and he grins dopily, stained with drool but no less genuine. He sighs at the sweep of Zenyatta's fingers through his standing-on-end hair. “G'morning, babe.” 

Zenyatta chuckles, leaning in to kiss his forehead. “Good morning, my dear little sparrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe I say it too much, but thank you again for reading! I've been #blessed with many lovely comments, kudos, and the like, I appreciate every one of you! Hope you enjoyed my dip into smut in the first time in- ever? (let's not discuss any pre-2016 fic of mine okay? okay) 
> 
> Happy Pride to one and all! In celebration, here's a fic of a cis bi guy and a masc-leaning genderfluid queer guy being super in love and appreciating their relationship and supporting each other. Bless all of y'all <3   
> Zen quite likes his job most of the time (he's a counsellor with a Master's in Social Work if anyone's keen on details like that) but compassion fatigue is Real and made all the realer by the ridiculous hoops people working in non-profits have to jump through. Cough, Zen might be taking a little self-insert from my real life self, cough cough ahem.   
> I've mentioned this before, but Chuck is an adopted shelter cat- I bring this up because while writing this, we adopted a new kitty friend from a shelter!!! He's a Good Boy and if you're looking for a new animal friend, do look into shelters/rescues and try to adopt adult cats if you can! Older cats get passed over for kittens, and the longer they stay the less likely they are to be adopted. Or if you can throw some spare change at your local shelter, that's cool too! /thumbs up/   
> Also Genji might seem annoyed by Chuck in this chapter but someone baby-talks to her and feeds her human food every morning while they make breakfast and lunch and guess who it is, hint: it's not Zen


	4. D. Va Stream

“Hey guys! D.Va here, with my friend, Hanzo!” 

“Hello.” 

“It's snowed maybe a foot here, and I'm still recovering from my Christmas cold, so we decided to do a nice, relaxing stream with no facecam. Also we're both wearing multiple blankets.” 

“Indeed we are.” 

“So if it's cold where you are, wrap yourself up too and join us for a little de-stress time! Make sure to check out today's sponsor in the description, LootBox, where you can get thirty percent off your first order with the code: NERF. That's code: NERF at LootBox.com! What game are we playing today, Hanzo?” 

“Ah- Harvest Moon: Magical Melody, which I have never actually played until today.” 

“That's right! We played a little bit off-camera so you guys didn't have to sit through the tutorials. Now we're gonna get down to business and build ourselves a farm! Remember, be nice to each other in chat to avoid the banhammer, and if you're new here, subscribe for daily streams!” 

“Mm.” 

“And where can people find you on the Internet, Hanzo?” 

“Uh, for what purposes?” 

“For your art, duh! Half the point of being a guest is to plug the cool stuff you make!” 

“Oh. I thought we were just playing a game.” 

“We are! C'mon, dude, we talked about working on your shameless self-promotion.” 

“Right, right. Hm, well, I'm Dragonstrike-illustrations on- I was just on Tumblr but then you got me on everything else.” 

“I sure did! I'll put those links in the description, too. You do commissions, right?” 

“Yes, through my Tumblr and I have a proper website now. There's pricing and details listed- please have a look, if you're inclined.” 

“Do you do fanart, too?” 

“Oh yes, that's er- well that's where most of the money is, to be honest. I have some- discretionary limits but I'll draw almost anything.” 

“Nice! Digital or traditional?” 

“You know- oh. Uh, both. I started with traditional so that's sort of where my preference lies, but I've really gotten into digital painting in the last couple of years.” 

“Very cool!- Oh, you have to go the other way. You need more seeds.” 

“Right. I think I'm still getting used to the map, and the controller.” 

“Not a GameCube guy, huh?” 

“Haha, no. That was a bit after my time.” 

“It was my very first game system! Not this one, I picked this up at a con a few years ago. But I have the original at my dad's, it still works! All these games are from back then, too!” 

“Very impressive. I'm surprised the discs lasted this long.” 

“Me too, I was a hyper kid. What was your first system?” 

“We had a Super Nintendo- well, Super Famicom, that I put a lot of hours into as a child. Genji- er, my brother-” 

“Oh, they know about Genji! He's been on the stream tons of times. There's a meme of him, actually.” 

“Really? He's never showed it to me.” 

“Oh, I'll show it to you later and you'll understand why.” 

“God, I can't wait.” 

“What games did you guys play?” 

“We had quite a few- any time Genji got money, that's all he wanted to spend it on. I think we had all the Mario ones-” 

“Who was Mario and who was Luigi?” 

“Heh, he liked Luigi better, but he'd pick Peach if she was an option. Um- I think we had all the usual ones. Kirby, Starfox, Zelda, Super Metroid I loved- I would play that for hours if Genji was out with his friends. Samus Aran was practically- where's my dog?” 

“Whistle for him!” 

“Wait, how do I- oh, how cute. They must have made plushies of the dog, right?” 

“Oh, probably. I should check eBay later. Your character is cute, too.” 

“Yes, I'm very stylish. Jean shorts in the wintertime, because the cold doesn't hurt when you're fashionably mining for moonstones.” 

“Gotta make those dollar-dollar- coins? I actually started this save file like- woah, maybe a year ago? I was going to play it through again and then I didn't. That's why Hanzo is a girl named Hana right now.” 

“Eh, I don't mind. Makes the romance part more appealing.” 

“True! Have you decided who you're going to woo yet?” 

“Hmm, I'm not sure. The doctor seems nice, and he has a stable job in case this whole farming business doesn't work out.” 

“Oh my god, Hanzo.” 

“What's that thing you said the other day? I need to 'secure the bag?'” 

“Ohmigod, I can't with you right now.” 

“Haha, maybe I'll take a stroll through town again and evaluate my options.” 

“Sluuuuut- I mean, who said that?” 

“Hey, there's no slut-shaming in Flower Harvest Whatever Town.” 

“You're right, I'm so sorry. Do you play any games now?” 

“Uh, I didn't for a long time. But I picked up Pokemon again a while back and played it until my DS broke. Since then I've only played on friends' systems.” 

“Do you still have the cartridge? I can give you one of mine. I'm only using the 3DS right now.” 

“Oh, well that would be very kind of you. I never got to beat the Elite Four and- hm, actually, nevermind.” 

“What? What is it? Don't leave me in suspeeeense.” 

“Hah, it's not that dramatic- I was just going to say that when I was young- I mean, young enough that my separation of fantasy and reality wasn't so great, -if I left a save file partway through, I worried about the characters being stuck in time- especially with Zelda and that where there was a plot to resolve. So I would always play through all my games even if I was tired of them. Ridiculous, isn't it?” 

“Aww, that's adorable!” 

“Pfft, well, one time Genji broke one of the games- or maybe he just erased it? I can't remember, but I was very upset and we got in a scuffle over it.” 

“How old were you?” 

“I was- nine and he was six, so it wasn't serious at all. I did get in trouble, but- yes, Genji, if you're listening, I'm not mad any- what is happening now? Why is there a man on my lawn?” 

“It's a two-heart event! He's giving you a soda because you're his friend.” 

“I see. Hm, he's a bit cute. Maybe I'll marry him.” 

“Ooo, moving a little fast there!” 

“Heh, what can I say, I have a thing for brunettes.” 

“Oh, is that so? I had no idea!” 

“I- listen. I did not come here to be called out.” 

“Didn't you, Hanzo? Didn't you?” 

“...No one at home can see this, but I am, in fact, giving you a very stern look.” 

“And it's not very effective, because I can barely see your face inside your blanket burrito.” 

“I'm freezing. It's colder than the depths of space outside.” 

“It sure is! I'm gonna have some more hot chocolate- sorry in advance for slurping, but the peppermint kind is so good, you guys. Not spon, it's just delicious.” 

“It really is, I had a whole mug of it earlier.” 

“I will have a hot drink in the middle of the summer if I need to relax, honestly. Oh- yeah, since this is kind of a self-care stream, what do you do for self-care?” 

“...Oh, you mean me- Ah, well. I sort of didn't do anything for a long time? Which I don't recommend, to be clear.” 

“You're not alone there, my dude. It's hard to make yourself a priority!” 

“Yes, you're quite right. Lately I've been somewhat compelled into self-care by the people around me. Which I am very grateful for, don't get me wrong. It just doesn't- it isn't something that I come by naturally.” 

“Haha, now that's a mood! _Hey, you okay?_ ” 

“ _Hm? Oh- yes, of course._ Mostly I- well, I don't know if this is the most recommended thing, but I like to marathon shows I enjoy or documentaries. Even just as background noise, I find it makes a difference.” 

“Hey, whatever works! If it helps you and doesn't hurt anything, then it's a good thing to do.” 

“I suppose that's true. I have been coaxed into slightly healthier methods by Je-by my er, boyfriend.” 

“Why did you say that word like you're allergic to it? Are you one of those people who feels too old to use it? Because I will make fun of you, just letting you know.” 

“Mm, I will neither confirm nor deny.” 

“Oh my gooood, you're just like my Daaaaad.” 

“There it is.” 

“So what- go the beach, it's the Fireworks Festival -what have you been coaxed into doing?” 

“Eh, I just take better care of myself than I used to. I try to sleep enough and eat right because I'm doing more, and it's easier to enjoy things when you feel human most of the time. What about you?” 

“This might sound super dorky, and you can all laugh if you want, but it works! I have an if-then spreadsheet with a bunch of strategies for each situation. So like, if I'm having trouble sleeping, then I'll listen to a meditation podcast. If I'm grumpy, then I'll go work out, that kinda thing.” 

“That's- a very good idea. You're much more mature than I was at your age.” 

“Thanks! I stole it from someone else. Let's check the chat while you give this guy more ore.” 

“Does he like anything else? I feel like giving someone the same gift every morning is not the best dating strategy.” 

“Nah, he's into it. Let's see...Ooo, lots of people wishing us belated happy new year's! Do you remember what I taught you before I went into my cold coma?” 

“Saehae- shit. Saehae bog manh-i...bad-euseyo? My Korean is terrible, I apologize.” 

“No, that was good! You're better than Genji and he took a frickin' class in it. How do you say it, again?” 

“Akemashite omedetou gozaimasu- well, that's the formal way, but it's how I was brought up.” 

“Nice, very nice. Do you ever have bilingual moments?” 

“Oh, yes, quite often. The only- heh, most of the Japanese my boyfriend knows is from me mumbling things at him while I'm half-asleep and him figuring them out from context clues.” 

“Awh!” 

“The first time, I was half-delirious with a stomach flu and kept saying 'Motto mizu kudasai,' so he brought me everything he could think of until he realized I wanted water.” 

“Oh my god, I remember that. That was when you were first together, too. How did he react?” 

“He said- hmm, actually nevermind. I'm not sure if I want that out on the Internet.” 

“Were you about to- oh my god, do it! It'll be so funny!” 

“Alright, but I don't want to become a meme.” 

“Okay, everybody, definitely make this into a meme.” 

“Hana.” 

“What? It's opposite day!” 

“Hm, anyway. He said- ahem, 'Darlin', I know you're real sick, but you gotta do charades or somethin' 'cause I'm not gettin' anywhere.'” 

“HAHAHA! Ohmigod, that sounded just like him! We have to get him on the stream next time so everyone can fully appreciate it. How did you do that?” 

“Simple repetition. We live together, so I hear his voice a lot more now. Plus he finds it funny, so I do it to make him laugh.” 

“You two are maybe the most wholesome. What's your love language?” 

“My what?” 

“It's the different ways people express their feelings. There's words, touch, gifts- ffff, one sec, Google to the rescue.” 

“Oh, I think Lena shared that. It's a quiz, right?” 

“Yeah! You do all these either-or options- Acts of service and quality time! That's it! -and calculate your strongest category or whatever. Like do you hug someone or give them a gift? Or would you do their chores over hugging them? It's basically those magazine compatibility tests on steroids.” 

“Hmm, I- would say gifts but that's changed a bit. I mean, I still give gifts, but I've realized I have to do more than throw material things at people.” 

“You can throw material things at me anytime! As long as they aren't sharp, I need binocular vision for VR.” 

“Pfft, noted. I suppose my strongest one would be quality time? Time is the only thing you can't get more of, so spending it with someone means the most, I guess.” 

“That's mine too! Up top, bro.” 

“Heh- Oh god, I hit the microphone. I'm so sorry.” 

“No big! I got it, theeere we go. I'll tighten it so it stays up.” 

“Thank you, sorry again. How do I know when- what is happening.” 

“Don't hit A!...'Kitty-cat, do you know what it is to have a man who burns every night thinking about you-' Woah! Speaking of love! You've really worked your magic on this guy!” 

“I thought this was a children's game, that's a little risque.” 

“Yeah, really!” 

“Now I'll have to add some pixels to my list.” 

“What- oh is that the hall pass list you and-” 

“It's not actually- It's just a joke, Je- my boyfriend and I each have five famous people that we give each other to spend an amorous weekend with, given the not even remotely possible chance.” 

“And you're going to be a jerk and not tell us who's on those lists, right?” 

“That's correct.” 

“Damn you! At least say one!” 

“Nope. Honestly, they would all date me and it would bruise my ego. Also, how do I trigger the proposal?” 

“You have to go buy the big bed- sorry, I was looking at the chat or I would have told you sooner.” 

“Not a problem. I have to say, this game offers good advice. Give your partner a bunch of rocks, buy a queen mattress, and a successful marriage will be yours.” 

“Is it really that different in real life? 'Cause I've seen some things.” 

“Hm, well.” 

“Oh, a few people are asking what you use to draw?” 

“Ah, Photoshop for digital and fountain pens for traditional- the latter isn't something most people would prefer, but I would recommend trying it if you like a looser style.” 

“Lookit you, sounding all professional.” 

“I try. The mayor is on my lawn?” 

“Oh hell yes! You're gonna get the blue feather! You're gonna marry the flirty fruit guy!” 

“His name is Dan and he's the future father of my non-aging baby, show some respect.” 

“Shh, tag your spoilers!” 

“This game came out when you were in preschool, spoiler warnings have long since expired.” 

“Fair enough. Wanna get a snack and continue this afterwards?” 

“Yes, please. As long as the snack is in your kitchen and not outside where the frozen hellscape is.” 

“Lucky for you, I have delicious things in my fridge that are mostly salt and sugar and will probably shorten our lifespans.” 

“Count me in.” 

“Cool! We're gonna BRB everyone, peace!” 

*** 

Zenyatta leans over the arm of the couch and kisses Genji's stubbly cheek, prompting him to pull one headphone out. “Dinner's ready, my dear. What are you watching?” 

Genji smiles bright as he tucks his phone into his sweater pocket. “Just checking in on Hana's stream, that's all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the inspiration of Trifoilum, I cranked out this quickun that I've had in my head for a while. It was a fun experiment! I hope you all enjoyed it!   
> Also Hanzo's favourite Pokemon is Dratini, fight me


	5. Grams

Hanzo hisses a curse as the beachball of death spins before him, opting to ignore it and pick up his phone for the third time in ten minutes. 

**HS:** Are you home? It's slightly urgent. 

**GS:** Sorry, was checking myself for testicular cancer, what's up 

**HS:** Jesus fucking Christ Genji 

**GS:** What? It's important, I have it in my monthlies for my habit tracker 

**GS:** I'm almost at 1000 points ＼(￣▽￣)／!! 

**HS:** I regret this conversation already. 

**HS:** Would you mind watching Den Sat. night? It's okay if you can't, I'm just trying to make arrangements. Angela can only take Lady, Fareeha's dad is visiting on Sun. and he has allergies. 

**GS:** I'll ask Zen but it should be fine. Are you going somewhere? 

**HS:** No, I just have non-dog-friendly plans. Their demands for walks are ill-timed, and we found out the hard way that Den doesn't know to avoid open flames. 

**GS:** My poor baby  <3 Also it's gross if I talk about checking for a preventable disease, but you can talk about eating Jesse's ass by candlelight? Double standard （￣^￣）凸 

**HS:** I didn't 

**HS:** What the actual fuck is your damage? 

**GS:** Dunno, Kaa-san said she dropped me as a baby but I think she was trying to reassure herself lol 

**GS:** Zen says it's all good!! Sooo, what are you going to surprise Jesse with? (◕ᴗ◕✿) 

**HS:** If I tell you, it isn't a surprise. 

**GS:** But I know what his is~~~ I mean, so should you. His last post is obvious as hell 

**HS:** What are you talking about? Jesse doesn't have any accounts, he's practically a hippie. 

**GS:** ಠ_ಠ You don't follow your own husband on Instagram? You rude little bitch 

**HS:** First of all, we live in the same house. 

Hanzo doesn't get to finish his response because Genji sends him a link and the green light turns grey. He snorts to himself and taps on it. His computer is rebooting, anyway. 

The profile picture does indeed contain that handsome mug he's come to know so well. The next thing he notices are the photographs, unmistakably Jesse's in locations equally familiar. He is putting that camera to good use. With less than a dozen followers, all of them friends, he must simply be storing them there. Hanzo admires the pleasure he takes in it, gaining satisfaction from the simple act of creation. Hanzo, for all that's happened, still desires other's approval on the things he makes. It might be his job, but it feels more selfish, somehow. 

He doesn't have much time to wax poetic, as he scrolls to the bottom and immediately finds a picture of himself. Jesse's as snap-happy with his phone as he is with a DSLR. Hanzo's grown used to it, approves of most of the photos. He didn't know Jesse was doing anything with them, though. 

A tap reveals the caption and refreshes his memory. A candid shot on a late night, back when they were scarcely a couple. His hair up in a bun and his jacket and expression pulled tight as he picks at some fries. He faintly remembers teasing Jesse for taking such a boring picture, but the caption makes him smile. _When you want to take a cutie out but it's the end of the month and you're both broke._

Scrolling up reveals the account to be much fuller than he anticipated, and he narcissistically taps every glimpse of his own face. Some of them are simple group shots. Handing Zenyatta a birthday gift, laughing with Genji outside of a party, duplicates of pictures from their friends' celebratory posts. What interests him isn't the photos, he isn't so vain and Jesse has kindly kept the embarrassing ones to himself, but the accompanying words. 

A moment with his eyes faraway, musing mildly over something beyond the fairy lights Jesse used to string around the living room window in his old flat, their pale yellow glow illuminating his face from beneath. Musical notes beside the words, _I'm dreaming tonight of a place I love, even more than I usually do._

Hunched over his sketchbook in the black turtleneck he still hasn't thrown out, paints balanced on the arm of the burgundy couch, the art itself out of frame by a careful angle, his brow furrowed and his wrinkles on full display, bags beneath his eyes and a red serape across his shoulders. _My babe is so talented <3 <3 <3 _

Another faraway moment, the lapses of attention that his brain leaves him embarrassingly prone to, fits of daydreaming better suited to a child. Here he sits in some ragged autumn grass- the Shambali monastery, maybe? -tip of his thumb resting on his lips and his knees pulled halfway up, his hair loose. _Still waters run deep._

Hanzo's lips are pulled thin until he finds one that breaks them into a grin. Finally one of the two of them, on their sides in bed, Jesse spooned up behind him and holding the phone out at a slightly awkward angle to capture their beaming faces amongst the crumpled white sheets. He can nearly smell their detergent at the sight, certainly recalls the night prior, though you can barely see a sliver of the mark he left on Jesse's scruffy throat. _Never wanna wake up without his face next to mine._

Another selfie, Hanzo sagging and sweating against a taped up wardrobe box in the back of a too-small rental van, half-scowling and weakly doing the peace sign while Jesse pulls a stupid, if adorable face. _Finally shacking up with my #1!_

The next one spills like squid ink in Hanzo's stomach, though no one else would recognize it for what it was. A half-finished plate of fish and chips before him, colour in his cheeks from a hair of the dog, sallowness stored in the dips of his face. He smiles for Jesse in a blandly handsome way, but he sees the cracks in it. A slightly better, sober day after an extremely bad, revealing night. The caption sinks an arrow into his chest. _So proud of you_

The next one shatters the mood, a shot of him shirtless and freshly shaved, sprawled poolside at Winston's. No caption, just a bunch of hearts, flames, and eggplants. His eyes nearly roll out of his head, but he can't repress the smirk. It's not like the dogs will tell on him. 

The background is fuzzy in this one, out with their friends in the dark, cropped too close to tell where. The focus entirely on his smile, disconnected from its purpose but no less enthusiastic and likely drunk, piercings shining in the mottled light. _Nothing more precious in the whole damn world._

Another of him, from behind, cooking with apron strings tied badly, his old basement apartment. _You can make any place feel like home._

A top view of his hand on Jesse's knee, thumb tracing the hole in the denim, the sterile yellow tile of the emergency room floor. _My lifeline._

A snap of him from their first trip down South, perched on the edge of the truckbed, painted in oranges and golds by the overbearing sun. Stolen flannel half-buttoned and a thermos of tea in his hands and oh, he's wondered what he must look like when he looks at Jesse but it's another thing to see it. He wants to feel embarrassed, flustered at the frank emotion in his gaze as it peers just beyond the lens, the softness of his features. But he can't, and the words make him finally relent and press the little heart button. Even without intending to, Jesse knows his weaknesses. _Quiero hacer contigo lo que la primavera hace con los cerezos._

And that's the strangest thing of all. If not for him, who are these for? Is it meant as a diary, or- 

He clicks on a more recent one, unfamiliar and not. A simple picture of him on the couch, arms folded and eyes shut, head leaned back and Den's tail-tip intruding on the frame. The words overwhelm his screen as he moves down. _Just come off the week from hell, damn near drove myself up a semi's rear end out of sheer frustration. You best believe I haven't been good company, nobody needs to tell me so._

_Get home from a disaster double and find this one conked out, all the lights on. He's due at work in less than 6hrs and tries to stay up just to see me, just to say goodnight. You know some people never get this lucky, never thought I would. I've been a shit all week, haven't even done the gd dishes, and he's seen worse, to boot. I wake him out of a sound sleep, try to coax him to bed so he doesn't wake up in knots, know what he says? 'Welcome home, Jesse. Are you alright?'_

_Y'all. I'm gonna run outta second chances one day, but by God, I hope it's not tomorrow._

Another shot of them at the cinema, but it's like overload. Hanzo can't process any more. A reminder dings on his computer for his wrist stretches. It's been well over an hour. He numbly polishes off a business card and types up printing specs, sends them to his shop email for tomorrow. Boots come clomping through the door soon after, a wave of hot city air blasting into the moderate paradise of their central air conditioning. 

“Hello my baby, hello my honey, hello my ragtime-” Jesse ends the tune on a smacking kiss to his temple, always careful not to jostle him too much when he's working. That voice like honey and whiskey tickles his ear. “Workin' hard or hardly workin'?” 

“Both,” Hanzo answers by default. Ignoring the intrusions of mutt and denim-covered man into his home workspace, Den and Lady keening for attention from Leaves-Every-Weekday Dad even though Leaves-Sporadically Dad has been here all day. “Genji and Fareeha agreed to dog-sitting.” 

“Nice! I'd promise them leftovers, but where I'm taking you-” Jesse taps his chin and steals a proper kiss, looking attractively cocky. “We won't need leftovers.” 

Hanzo laughs, muted, the tightness in his throat not abating even when they don their breathable gay apparel and climb into the aging Jeep, headed for parts unknown to Hanzo. He checks the account one last time, as if to reassure himself he didn't have some sugar crash-induced hallucination. Another picture, from their wedding. The two of them dancing while Hanzo half-smiles, half-glares at whatever Jesse gleefully just said. _Love is patient, love is kind, and holy shit I'm married to this guy! JACKPOT!!_

Jesse produces a picnic basket with the tag still on it from the back, Hanzo taking it and Jesse's flesh hand, letting himself be led up the hill to a spot overlooking the river that runs in little eddies at this time and rages in the autumn. “I'd call this make-out point, but I dunno if parking's even a thing kids get up to anymore.” 

“I'm sorry,” Hanzo blurts out, like a moron, hurrying his words when Jesse looks at him askance. “For not...following you.” 

“In what- oh!” Jesse barely stifles a laugh, tearing off a bite of his peameal bacon sandwich, still hot from the aluminum foil. “We live in the same house, sugar. Y'don't need to-” 

“But I should have. That was the point, wasn't it?” Hanzo wrenches the cap off one of the glass bottle sodas Jesse's so endearingly fond of. “Of the things you wrote?” 

Jesse looks at him with those shining golden-brown eyes, their glamour fading in favour of sweet understanding. “Y're doin' the bug eyes thing again, hon.” 

“I am not.” Hanzo glances off all the same. He isn't embarrassed, he's- overwhelmed. 

“Okay,” Jesse chuckles softly, setting his food down to scoot across the blanket and clasp Hanzo's hand, their rings soundlessly catching. “I didn't write that stuff for anybody to see, really. I just meant it.” 

“But-” Hanzo's tongue presses heavy behind his teeth. “I don't do anything like that for you.” 

Jesse stops, shakes his head and lifts Hanzo's hand, pressing it to his lower back, warm and sticky through his shirt, where ink flowers bloom beneath. “What's this, then? Hm?” 

“That's not-” 

“And this,” Jesse traces his fingers over Hanzo's shorts, almost at the crease of his hip, blindly finding his favourite in a string of symbols. “ And whatever's waiting for me at home.” Hanzo scoffs, feigning coyness with Jesse's glinting eyes trained on his face. He touches Hanzo's ring again, tracing the metal and malachite. “And these.” 

Hanzo's smile softens, head still ducked. “I didn't design those.” 

“You know what I mean, smart-ass.” Jesse plants a kiss on his forehead, lingering there. “You have your own ways of telling me. I don't mind, never have. I want you to act like you, not me.” Another kiss, almost cruelly brief, tasting of salt. “I love _you._ ” 

Hanzo fastens himself to Jesse's front despite the muggy solstice evening air, pressing his face to a neck scented with smoke and oil and- that's definitely his cologne, oh well. Jesse helps him sit sideways across his lap, rubbing a hand over his back and kissing him again while Hanzo dams the breach of _I don't deserve this_ in favour of a lesson learned from tentative ventures into therapy. “Thank you.” 

“What for?” 

“For loving me,” Hanzo breathes and lets himself smile, cups Jesse's barely-trimmed jaw. “If I asked you today, would your answer be the same?” 

“Sure would, it's a thousand times yes.” Jesse melts against his hand. The late sun brings out every hidden grey hair, his smile an invincible summer, his eyes as bright as galaxies. “Happy anniversary, honeybee.” 

Hanzo sighs just a little, shuts his eyes so they can be kissed and the two of them can finish their delicious food. “To you as well, my love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this idea on a post-it six months ago and was suddenly compelled to write it all out last night, ENJOY!   
> Genji says fondle your balls if you have 'em, prevention starts with you   
> Lady's a pup they got a couple years into their marriage off an online ad. She's one of a few results of someone's purebred Daschund sneaking into a neighbour's yard to get to know their purebred Golden Retriever. On the upside, she's accidentally hypoallergenic, on the downside she's a princess.   
> Also Hanzo's quoting Camus at the end because of course he is   
> Best wishes to all y'all while I go back to writing a longer fic, stay warm wherever you are!!


	6. A-Plus (NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Includes oral, anal sex, toys, edging, very light d/s play (Zen is a service top (sometimes) and Genji is a power bottom (sometimes))

The idea comes up more than once, but the script goes unwritten until Zenyatta spends a lonesome night in a too-empty hotel room. His notes and USB for the next day's conference sit neatly on the nightstand, an enormous city buzzing away outside while he loses himself in Genji's messages, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. 

His skin feels similarly alight as he taps around mindlessly on his laptop, one elbow on the desk that is ninety-percent Genji's, but solely his for now. Trying to stay distracted results in an ironic rebound circuit. The more he tries to pull away, the more his thoughts ceaselessly return to the unseen- 

A rap on the door, followed by the appearance of a familiar, adorable face. “Sensei? I'm here for my make-up exam.” 

Great actors, neither of them are, barely restraining their smiles. Zenyatta nods and gestures to the repurposed kitchen chair beside him. “Right on time. Please, take a seat.” 

Genji shuts the bedroom door behind him to guard against Chuck and sits primly, his square glasses perched neatly on his nose and one of Zenyatta's sweatervests pulled over his white button-up. Very method, very cute. “Do you feel ready for it? I expect a high grade if you intend on passing the course.” 

“Oh, definitely. I spent plenty of time preparing,” Genji smirks, all but waggling his eyebrows as his splendid brown eyes bore into Zenyatta's. 

“Very well then.” Zenyatta offers a small smile in turn and passes him the test and bubble sheet, prompting a small 'oh' of surprise. An old file from a Psych 101 course, he recalls, retrieved from his teaching assistant backups. Now he can truly say that graduate school paid for itself. “You may start now, there is no time limit.” 

Genji hums, half-amused and half-impressed, pulling an old textbook out from the shelf between them to use as a writing surface. No sooner does his pencil touch the paper than Zenyatta reaches behind the laptop and takes up the remote. 

A palm-sized purple oval with a dial in its centre. He twists it to the lowest setting, not wanting to startle his eager student too much. The toy appears to respond instantly, Genji's spine abruptly straightening as he bites back a whimper, shifting in his seat and then forcefully stilling himself. The vibe has a very slight curve to it, and Genji knows better than to get himself too excited this early. 

Zenyatta touches his knee lightly. “What's the colour?” 

“Green,” Genji breathes with a smile, eyes darkened but otherwise keeping up a convincing front. 

“Excellent,” Zenyatta nods and turns back to the screen. He lets Genji fidget for another moment or two, then turns it off. He exhales through his mouth and shakes his head, as if completing a sprint. Zenyatta smiles and continues clicking around pointlessly in old documents. 

Genji's mind is persistently active, leaping between hyperfocus and distraction, to the point of overload at times. It doesn't take him long to become re-absorbed in the test. Another tweak of the dial to the next setting sends his pencil skittering off the page. Genji swallows, discreetly adjusts himself, keeps reading as the buzz becomes audible. His knee jumps up when Zen briefly turns it to the max setting before bringing it back down just as quickly. Observing his favourite student through a sidelong glance ratchets up the pleasure for him, too. He wants to touch, to peel him out of those borrowed clothes and taste him, but he also has to be patient. 

Another tweak of the knob, another half-muted whine, Zenyatta smiles. He can wait. 

He leaves it on a medium setting for a while and watches. Watches the way Genji's hips rock down of their own accord, hungry for more stimulation even if it's not enough, even if it's just the dull rub of his fly against his cock. Watches the flush bloom on his cheeks, colouring pinks into that white-ridged tanned skin, made all the more handsome by the warmth of summer's close. Watches the focus leave his gaze, a pink tongue darting out to wet dry lips as his eyes squeeze shut. “Close-” 

He slowly dials it back to 'off.' Genji catches his breath, gripping the sides of the textbook, shoulders hunched. Zenyatta turns his head, as if his attention was only just roused. “Is everything alright?” 

“Yes,” Genji grins, pushing his glasses back up reflexively. “It's just a little-!” His voice cuts out when Zen clicks it on again, fingers biting into his knee before it goes off. “A little- harder, than I thought it might be.” 

Zenyatta hums thoughtfully, walking the line of mild disappointment, but the mischief in his smile surely dispels the illusion. “Did you expect me to go easy on you?” 

Their eyes lock as Genji swallows hard again. He has studied Genji's body language well, watching for flashes of anger in the early days, then tells of closing off, of pain, signals of need. He relishes memorizing him; the slow blowouts of his pupils, the hitch in his chest, the fine microexpressions that convey desire, surprise, and anticipation in the space of a moment. 

“Well?” Zenyatta's tone belies amusement rather than impatience as he turns the vibrations up slowly, so slowly. “Did you?” 

The toy was Genji's choice, not one Zenyatta would have picked were they reversed. Firm, rounded, strong at full charge. He fingers the button that changes the pattern from steady to pulsing waves, nearly seeing them ripple through his lover as he fights to stay put in his seat, mouth falling open for a moment. “No- guess not.” 

Zenyatta hums again, pretending to inspect his nails, neatly filed and freshly painted a deep ocean blue. “Carry on, then. Do your best.” 

His student's response is wordless affirmation, broken in the middle as Zenyatta flips rapidly between low and high a few times. It's easy to dismiss it all as preamble, play-talk, but Genji had been very specific about what brought him over the edge. It isn't merely an act with a toy as the centrepiece. His patience is a lovely, learned thing, and it will be rewarded. 

Genji moans low after a few minutes of silently riding the plug. “Ah, close-!” 

Zenyatta turns it off before it's too late. His breath breaks, the flush having crept down his throat as he softly keens. He lays his pencil down and sweeps both hands through his hair, grounding himself. Zen catches his eye. “Colour?” 

“Green,” Genji smiles weakly, picking a stray hair of that very shade from between his fingers. 

Zenyatta nods. “Your dedication impresses me.” 

A soft huff of a laugh as he tries to keep going, maintain the roleplay. Another pattern now, a rapid _thmp-thmp-thmp_ on medium. Genji can't hold back his moans now. His free hand comes to clutch at his neck, desperation in its grip. Zenyatta cycles it up steadily, making him thump his head back against the wall as his hips lift, only to abruptly shut it off. 

“ _Fuck._ ” 

Zenyatta's smile curls again, fond as it is impish. “It's okay, you're doing great. Keep going.” 

He sees something melt behind Genji's eyes, his blush concentrating high on his cheeks. Zen turns the toy back on, low now, watches him buck and groan softly. Genji shifts the textbook away, removing any pressure save his straining trousers. His movements slower, a little hesitant. Yes, this is what they both wanted. 

Zenyatta doesn't bother feigning casual observance now, turning fully towards him as he carefully brings him right up the edge and back down, up to the edge and back down. He is beautiful in his pleasure, even while being teased. Shaky, eyes half-closed, a touch of bravado still present as he struggles in vain not to show how badly he wants release. He grabs the back of the sweatervest and yanks it off in a relieved huff, showing off the sweat darkening the underarms of his shirt. A drop trickles down into his collarbone as he coasts along the edge of another not-yet-orgasm, teeth bared. 

Zenyatta can hardly wait either, he wants his fill of him. 

He cranks the dial high once more and leaves it there, resting his chin on his knuckles as Genji doubles over. Keening and trying to breathe it down, but only succeeding in bringing himself closer. “I can't- Zen, _please-”_

Off again, slowly, Genji's back arching with it. He fairly shoves the test at Zenyatta, slumping back and inhaling on three, exhaling on four. How gorgeous he is, glowing with heat. How lucky Zenyatta is to have him. 

A glance at the sheet shows a brief, valiant attempt followed by all C's, bubbles poorly filled in at that. He clicks his tongue sadly. “I'm afraid I simply can't give this a passing mark.” 

Hazy as they are, a spark returns to Genji's eyes as he cautiously sits up. “Is there something I can do for extra credit? I'll do _anything._ ” 

Zenyatta only barely stifles a laugh, letting it rumble low in his chest as he settles back and folds his arms. “Well, I'm not supposed to- but you're such a bright, promising young man. I can't let you go without a second chance.” 

Genji snorts into his fist, but drops to his knees as soon as Zen rolls back from the desk. He nearly sighs at the sight of him, so ready to please. His hands on Zenyatta's thighs, adoration and hunger pouring out from every line of his face. 

Zenyatta reaches out, resting his fingers against the scarred, masculine grain of his jaw. He admires him for a time. The stormy, gentled beauty of his eyes, the natural spikiness of his swept-back hair, the manifest messiness of an untameable spirit forever going every which way. His whole body tense as a wolf about to bolt after a potential meal. To be wanted like this, it's more than- 

“Zen,” Genji whispers, an abashed smile on his lips as he glances off. There is a touch of posturing in his voice, old false-pride that he rarely bothers with now. “Quit staring, geez.” 

Zenyatta smiles, letting his fingertips flicker across Genji's cheek. “Forgive me. You are quite stunning, I must say.” 

“You ought to buy a mirror, then- oh,” Genji's grin splits wide once he opens Zenyatta's corduroys. “Commando, eh? I thought I spotted a rogue hard-on.” 

“Call it a time-saver.” Zenyatta shifts and parts his legs, leaving room for Genji as he leans forward, threading his fingers through straw-dry hair. “Go on, now. Don't keep me waiting.” 

Genji pushes a gasp from Zen's chest as he takes him in hand and seals his mouth over the head of his cock. He pulls back to trace his tongue along the bottom, then lays worshipful kisses along the shaft. His touch is gentle for now, though Zen feels himself hardening quickly. Little keens and grunts claim his voice of their own accord as Genji starts to suck. He clumsily caresses the outline of himself in Genji's cheek, belatedly reaching for the remote. 

The slight scrape of teeth is a small price to pay for how Genji's entire being seems to lurch with unexpected pleasure. His eyes widen almost comically for a moment, before dreamily falling shut. He stays keen on his task, hips jerking against nothing as Zenyatta toys with the dial, his mouth sloppy and loud as he takes him deeper. 

“Like that, oh,” Zenyatta leans back, nearly losing himself. Genji grabs his free hand and blindly plants it on his crown. Zen giggles airily at the blatant hint, pushing his student ever so slightly down with his palm, listening to him swallow and get it good and wet. Then he grips his hair close to the roots and pulls him back slowly, slowly. Watches his cock slide from his slick mouth and bob in the chilly air as he moans, ceding all control to Zenyatta. 

“Ah- no touching, not yet,” Zenyatta scolds gently when Genji reaches for himself. He fists his hands on his knees, jaw tight and chest heaving. “Yes, that's it. You are so good for me, aren't you? Always so lovely.” 

He leaves the toy going, the setting relentless without being cruel. One hand firm on Genji's shoulder, holding him down with only enough leeway to shift back against the plug. The other gripping his chest, thumbing his nipple through the thin cotton of his shirt. Close as they are, it's nearly transparent, Genji's muscular core flexing beneath. 

“You're doing so well,” Zen croons down at him, his heart aching faintly as Genji strains and wordlessly begs. Just as planned, he's letting himself go somewhere soft and buzzing so they can both enjoy this, not think about anything beyond these four walls. “You always do your best for me. That makes me so happy, Genji. I can't tell you-” 

“Nn, Zen-” Genji pitches forward, hips grinding down as he wheezes against Zenyatta's inner thigh, the words a barely-audible rush. “So close-!” 

Zenyatta kills the vibrations immediately, chuckling as Genji groans in genuine frustration even though he was the one to call it off. He starts mouthing at Zenyatta's cock again, almost pleading in the rapid flicks of tongue against the tip. It would be very easy to let him, to melt beneath him, but Zenyatta pulls himself back to Earth, politely tapping Genji's shoulder. He smiles when Genji pulls back immediately and wipes the spit from his chin, both of their gazes lingering on each other before the gentle command comes. “Unbutton my shirt.” 

Curiosity breaks through the fog in Genji's expression, mouth quirking to one side as he nonetheless reaches out to somewhat ineptly undo Zen's peach-coloured blouse. He touches Genji's hand when it's halfway open, unable to help himself from stroking fondly. “That's enough, now stand up.” 

While setting the scene during their salacious back-and-forth some days ago, everything else was planned, but Genji had entrusted Zenyatta with one key detail. _You get to decide how and when I come. Surprise me ;)_

A certain strain of theatre runs through Zenyatta's veins, perhaps genetic. He won't let Genji walk away disappointed after blessing with such trust. 

“Back against the wall, please,” Zenyatta says, more in-character than he has been in several minutes. He nods approvingly when Genji obeys, flattening himself to the drywall beside the chair. “Very good.” 

Confusion blooms briefly, quickly replaced by brazen lust. Zenyatta likes to think he has quite a deft hand with his manual chair after all these years, swinging himself neatly around and in front of his lover, pinning his legs to the wall just so. His electric one might have produced a better effect, but nothing spoils a romantic evening faster than broken toes. 

“Um?” is the best Genji can offer, realization slowly dawning as Zen grins up at him. 

“Hands at your sides, I would like to hear you.” Zenyatta watches as Genji snickers, bracing his palms against the ornate molding that runs along the middle of the wall. He's grateful for the concrete walls of their flat, virtually impenetrable, though Genji has tried more than once to let the neighbours know his name. 

“Well done.” Zen smiles, undoing Genji's black pants and tugging them and his briefs down to mid-thigh. Here finds his own surprise, a black rubbery ring around the base of his reddened cock with a piece behind the balls that pushes everything forward. “Oh, for me? You shouldn't have.” 

The pair of them giggle helplessly, Genji shoving his glasses back up after they recover. “So, have I earned it, sensei?” 

The mock-innocence of the statements brings a smile to Zenyatta's lips. “I think so, but we aren't finished yet. 

“Let's take care of this first,” Zenyatta murmurs, gently slipping his balls free one at a time, to Genji's visible relief. He's pleased to find the decoration not all that tight and well-slicked. Handing it off to Genji and laughing when he pops it into his breast pocket, Zenyatta's fingers slide into the hot space between his legs to press at the flared base of the toy. “Colour, my love?” 

“Green,” Genji says through his teeth, fingers digging into the chair rail, sure to leave nearly-imperceptible divots in the paint. “Please, I need-” 

“Shhh, no need to fuss.” Zenyatta palms his bared hips before tracing his hands back to centre, pressing a kiss to his leaking cock. “I have you, it's alright.” 

He loves Genji's taste on his tongue, loves the stretch of his jaw when he takes him as far as he can, loves feeling him twitch and hearing him groan and hold his breath. He's grateful to have his own erection freed, leaving him more focused and less frantic. Apt to use every touch and trick until he hears those rhythmic, husky _uh-uh-uh's_ that mean he needs to keep going, press on until the end. 

That Genji loves him enough, wants him enough to arrange a whole evening around this play, warms him like a sunbeam to his very core. He is generally in favour of words, but at times they are pale imitations of the depth of his love. He wishes to treasure every- 

“Zenyatta,” Genji rasps, shaking as he struggles to keep his hips still, to be good. “Oh, oh fuck-” 

He hollows his cheeks to make his last long, slow suck worthwhile, Genji's moan cracking into a half-sob as he's tasted like a sweet treat. Another tender kiss at the base, eyes shut as he takes in his scent, quickly nuzzles the strip of hair leading down his belly and finally looks up. 

And what a sight, indeed. Bitten lips and hair askew, looking down at Zenyatta as if nothing else exists. Shirt sticking to him, riding up slightly as his body squeezes around the toy. He wraps his fingers slow and snug around Genji's cock, pressing a palm to his bared thigh when his hips thrust forward. “Where are your manners? You know better than that by now.” 

Genji grits out a whimper, one hand coming up to grip the opposite bicep, physically steadying himself before speaking, his tone all softness and need. “Please- may I come?” 

To have someone so beautiful, within and without, turned willingly to putty in his hands- it's truly dangerous for Zenyatta's ego. But no one else ever need know. 

“Of course, my dear,” he fairly purrs, grabbing the remote again. “You've done so well for me.” 

“Oh god-” is all Genji can manage. Zenyatta flips the vibe to high and steady, the even strokes of his hand rapid and slick. He leans forward when Genji cries out and starts coming, tilting his head back to catch it all on his chest. A thrilled, debauched sort of feeling comes over him as he revels in his lover's climax, the hot slick dripping down his bare chest. 

“ _Holy shit,_ ” Genji gasps, eyes wide and sounding almost pained as his body spasms a few more times. The twin attentions of hand and toy cease as soon as he's milked dry. Zenyatta rolls back and Genji immediately slides down the wall, dropping his face to Zen's lap and hiccuping for air. 

“That was beautiful, dear one,” Zenyatta hums, dispensing with the pretense of the scene. He strokes Genji's shoulders and scalp with care, worrying his lip when Genji doesn't lean into it in his usual cat-like way. “Are you alright? Was it too much?” 

“No, but I wish I had a photographic memory,” Genji mumbles, finally lifting his head and making Zenyatta snort-laugh at the absolutely drunken smile on his face. “You're amazing, I love you.” 

“And I you, my beloved student,” Zen taps his nose as they both snicker. He eases Genji's glasses off, folding and setting them aside for later cleaning. “I think that's enough for one night.” 

Genji perks up at that. “What? No, you haven't-” 

“I don't need to.” 

“I know,” Genji frowns briefly, then he smirks and leans up, shivering faintly as the toy shifts inside. His lips brush Zen's ear as he whispers, the heat of him blanketing across Zenyatta's body. “But I really want you inside me, I've been waiting to get on top of you all night.” 

“I don't want you to push yourself,” Zenyatta replies, poorly hiding how affected he is. Then Genji chuckles and kisses just below his ear and he is very slightly _gone._

“I'm not, I promise.” Genji breathes, nipping Zen's earlobe. “Please? I want to feel you come. I'm all yours-” 

Zenyatta's hands fly to Genji's shirtfront, thoroughly convinced as Genji's sweet laugh rings out. His hands are clasped gently. “Leave it on, I know you like seeing me in your clothes.” 

Zenyatta is flushed and remiss to disagree. “Alright, but leave it open, at least.” 

Genji is almost shy to wipe away the mess from Zenyatta's skin, but makes short work of their remaining clothing. Zen hums with uncharacteristic impatience as he tugs his socks away. “Must you, dear?” 

“It isn't love if you leave your socks on,” Genji grins, still gleefully riding his endorphin high. Zenyatta can only shake his head and gently pinch his cheek. Until him, he had never smiled so much while skin to skin with another. 

Zenyatta lifts himself onto the bottom edge of their bed, erection bouncing between his legs and Genji openly ogling him. Genji grabs the nearby lubricant and kneels, pops the condom into his mouth and rolls it down hands-free before Zen can speak, knotting the sheets in his fists. 

“Oh, you're much too good to me,” Zen breathes, stroking Genji's hair. Counts back from a hundred as he's slicked up. Genji slips the toy from his body with a hiss, Zenyatta reaching for him as he undoes the straps of his prosthetic leg. “Are you sore? We don't have to-” 

“Nope, just a little sensitive.” Genji crawls over and summarily straddles his hips, hands splayed on Zenyatta's chest as he balances on knee and stump, lit from above by the dimmed ceiling light and smiling dopily. “You always take extra time with me. You'll go slow at first, won't you, sensei?” 

“I'd make you pay for that, if I had the heart for it.” Genji laughs while Zenyatta prods his ticklish side, no meanness behind it. The sight of him slicking Zenyatta's fingers and guiding them inside stymies any further teasing, save one observation. “Wow, that silicone lube was a good investment.” 

“No kidding,” Genji exhales, grinning as his head lolls back. “I'm going to be slippery for a week.” 

“It may come in handy- mm!” Zen's hands grip Genji's hip and thigh as he eases himself down, gravity doing most of the work. They both tremble with it, being so careful- he wants, oh, he wants- 

Genji lays atop him, burying his face in his neck. Zenyatta's arms encircle his chest, feeling their breathing slow and match, the shirt damp from his sweat. “Can you come again?” 

“Oh, god no.” Genji laughs, his voice faraway as he rocks back experimentally, slurring softly against Zen's shoulder. “Just want to feel you. It's so good, you're so deep, mmh.” 

Zenyatta can only whisper his lover's name, rock his hips up and hold him tighter as they find a slow, grinding rhythm. Oh, the heat of him, the fluttering grip of his body as he takes him in again and again, never shifting away for long. 

“Okay,” Genji mumbles, mostly to himself as he pushes up and finds Zenyatta's hands, interlocking their fingers. Zen takes the hint and locks his elbows as Genji works himself back, moaning with it. His abs and thighs flex as he begins to move, the green dragon shifting as he pushes himself up. Zen soon catches on that Genji is showing off for him, smiling slowly. 

“Can we move up?” Zenyatta squeezes his hands, surprised by the breathy tone of his voice. “You're being so good, I want to do more to- for you.” 

Genji smirks and nods. After some flailing and crawling, Zenyatta lays comfortably against their pillowed headboard, his fingertips skimming along Genji's sturdy waist as he rides his lap. He feels impossibly soft, and the scent of his skin- Genji leans down and their tongues brush first, their kiss messy and burning. Zen cups his lover's jaw, groaning when pulls away. “More, please-” 

Genji's laughter bubbles between their lips, sucking Zenyatta's thumb in an absolutely lascivious way when it's pressed to his bottom lip. “As you wish.” 

Zenyatta's fingers embed themselves in greying roots, scrape down the back of his own half-ruined shirt, caress the sensitive curves of his ass. He sighs when Genji moans happily, wanting to make it good for him even though he's wrung out. “You feel- oh, you're so tight for me, you're perfect. I love everything you do for me, Genji-” 

“So use me,” Genji shifts back, this side of defiant even as the haze returns to his eyes. “Fuck me, make me remember this. Come on, Zen- _oh.”_

Genji's head drops against his shoulder again as Zenyatta puts his upper body strength to good use, grabbing his middle and pulling him down over and over again. The obscenity of their cries only overshadowed by the loud slapping of skin. He's careful not to leave marks as he sucks kisses to his lover's neck. A moment of focus on the push-pull of their bodies, the heavy panting in his ear, and the warmth of Genji all around him- that's all it takes. 

His favourite student rides it out with him, not slowing until Zenyatta's throat is raw and he hauls him down, shuddering through the last of it, stars exploding behind his eyes. They slouch together, a sweaty pile of limbs as Zen enjoys the sparks pulsing through him for a moment, just a moment. 

Genji is virtually limp as he's helped out of his shirt, cleaned, and tugged into a fresh pair of briefs. Then, with still-shaky arms, Zenyatta pulls him onto his lap and cradles him close, kissing him kindly. “That was wonderful, dear one. You are so good to me, so special.” Another kiss, at the corner of a creeping smile. “Are you alright? Nothing hurts?” 

Genji nods dumbly. “M'good. I liked that, a lot.” 

“I couldn't tell,” Zenyatta giggles while Genji snorts at him, too boneless to do anything else. He gently brushes Genji's hair back from his forehead and can tell he's still floating, much like the last time they played this way. He's more than content to keep him safe until he comes back down. 

After a peaceful moment, the only sounds being the traffic outside and Chuck chasing her jingle ball all over their living room, Genji lifts a hand to Zenyatta's face. Sluggishly, he thumbs away what must be all that remains of Zenyatta's golden eyeliner, likely smeared back to his ear. “You feeling okay? Mentally and physically, I mean.” 

“Yes to both,” Zenyatta titters, watching Genji wriggle closer, seeking his warmth. He smiles and pulls the covers up around them, stroking a gentle finger over his cheek and along his chin. “Time for rest, I think.” 

“Yeah,” Genji yawns, sinking into the pillows, into Zenyatta. Zen turns off the lamp while Genji rests his palm protectively over the spillway of freckles on his chest, eyelids drooping. “Subha ratri.” 

“Oyasumi,” Zenyatta bends awkwardly to kiss him on the mouth, Genji fast asleep before he even pulls away. His mala sit safely on the desk, but Zen is content to murmur his nightly prayers without them. He studies Genji while cycling through, splayed across his lap _La Pietà-_ style as he is, the urgent flush gone and only a certain ruddiness remaining in his ears and cheeks. Lips twitching into an almost-smile, perhaps already dreaming. 

Genji's pleasure in these scenes draws from his strength in admitting he enjoys being praised, told that he's good, that his lover is proud of him. Zenyatta's pleasure comes from a wish finally granted- a touch of childish selfishness in saying so, he hasn't waited so long. But to love someone so worthwhile, so deserving of all his care and affection- to know abundance instead of loss, for however long the Iris might grant them- 

Zenyatta dips again to kiss his forehead, his lips lingering against warm, brilliantly alive skin. “Thank you, my Genji.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cough* I took a little spice idea from a comment convo and ran with it, hope you all liked!   
> If it isn't obvious (it is), I love writing sex scenes where characters telegraph what their favourite thing is without saying it (Genji's being p obvious here, so is Zen).   
> They don't have a strict top/bottom dynamic, but sometimes Genji needs taking care of and Zen loves taking care of him.   
> Wanted to get this out of the way before the Christmas fic, which I really want to put up before Christmas, let's hope!


	7. Solstice (McHanzo-Wedding Deleted Scenes)

The tile of Fareeha and Angela's master bathroom is cool beneath Jesse's dress socks as he leans closer to the mirror. A delicate touch is needed with the comb to coax his hair into the nice, slightly slicked-back look he wants without raising any cowlicks. He sings to himself, a low echo beneath the struggling air conditioner and the chaotic din of their charming cabin-type setup. 

Weddings have oddly never meant much to Jesse. The slivers he remembers of his mom indicate he was born on the wrong side of the blanket. His grandfather was just a photo over the piano and a pair of boots in the hall closet, his and Gran's rings pawned to pay for something or other back then. In Deadlock, no one could afford to end up on paper, even at a drive-thru chapel out of Vegas, so relationships had to be memorialized in other, louder ways. He's been to the occasional engagement happy hour for various coworkers since, but hadn't so much as attended a wedding until Genji and Zen got hitched last year. 

“Oh I'm, gonna do this ri-ight,” Jesse hums, lips sticking together as he smooths his recently trimmed, still-damp beard into tidiness. “Show you I'm not movin', wherever you go-” 

“Are you done yet, Jesse?” Ana raps on the half-open door, looking like she stepped out of a high-end fashion magazine. Forever classy, despite maintaining the highest kill-count in her division. She chuckles at his suit, seeing it for the first time. “Very handsome! But I thought white was only for virgins?” 

“Nah, see? It's hussy white.” Jesse gestures to the cream-coloured jacket as he shrugs it on, satisfied with his face. 

Ana snorts into her hand and brandishes a red rose, its stem wrapped with ribbon and baby's breath or whatever those little white things are called. “The flowers arrived, let me.” 

“Thanks, Ma.” Jesse smiles warmly, sticking his chest out so she can pin the boutonniere to his lapel. “Everything goin' okay out there?” 

The theme of their wedding might be “no fuss, for chrissakes” but Jesse still wants it to be a good time. Everybody had worked so hard to put this on for them. It might not be a big shindig, but he wants it to be a memorable, relatively disaster-free one. 

“Of course,” Ana demures with a smile and a slow wave of her hand. “Everything's fine, nothing's on fire, these are not the droids you're looking for.” 

Jesse laughs and gets an affectionate pat to the cheek before she hurries off to check on something or other. The younger Ms. Amari appears in her wake, plum-painted lips all pursed. “Get out of my toilet, I need to unfuck this eyeliner.” 

“Told ya not to use your phone,” Jesse smirks, glancing at her enormous bunny slippers as they swap places. “Oh, please tell me you're wearing those for the photos.” 

“I have hose on!” Fareeha gestures exasperatedly at her legs before rubbing a q-tip over her tongue. She looks real cute, all dolled up in that blue number Angie's sure to love. 

Jesse shuffles down the hall in a mild fugue state, fixing his cuffs unnecessarily. He ought to be doing something, but he doesn't know what. The reception is a while away yet, that had been more his bag. He's less about ceremony and more about celebration, he supposes, but that's a bit reductive, isn't it? The faint burn of a red dragon recently inked into his upper arm is telling. He has a poetic heart, so he's told, a love for a symbol's secret meaning rather than its apparent one. 

“There it is,” Gabe says behind him, Jesse turning on his heel to see Genji jogging up the stairs, a flush in his cheeks. “You alright? I heard shouting.” 

“Oh yeah, just Hanzo being himself.” Genji rolls his eyes as he passes off Jesse's missing tie, nodding at him. “Do you have the lint-roller?” 

“Olivia had it, last I saw.” Jesse answers, sending Genji hurrying back to the living room, hopefully to put on something besides pants and a tank top. “D'ya mind- ah, thanks.” 

Gabe smiles as he leans into Jesse's space to fix his collar and tie the tie. “So, you ready to stand up in front of God and everyone and bet half your stuff that you'll love this guy forever?” 

“Damn skippy I am,” Jesse laughs, watching Gabe's scarred hands work on a perfect knot. “Oh, by the way, I had Lúcio put 'Total Eclipse of the Heart' on the playlist for you two.” 

“Aw, how thoughtful.” Gabe drawls, doing that fake-grin that stretches out the hole in his cheek for effect. “Are you gonna cry?” 

“'Course not, we live together. There's nothin' to cry about.” 

“He's gonna cry,” Jack says confidently, leaning on the banister while Gabe fixes the tie just so and steps away to grab some things. “Hana put tissues in your inside pocket.” 

“You might need some, I won't.” Jesse retorts, jokingly defiant. He rocks back on his heels and takes a second to breathe. The last six weeks were a blur, but he remembers the next steps. Enter with Gabe and Ana on his arms, stand tall and look pretty waiting for Hanzo, everything else is on note-cards. Easy as pie. 

“Hey.” Jesse adds after a moment's thought, and after Jack's screen-reader finishes telling him that Lulu ate her food and is doing fine at the kennel, thanks so much. “You don't feel- left out of this, do ya?” 

He isn't sure what he'd do if Jack did, at this point, but it seems worth asking. Jesse's time in their patchwork family had seen him through their good times and their not-talking periods where Gabe continually said he was fine, but played way too much shitty music to mean it. His attitude had clashed with the former soldier's early and often, and at times it felt like it was him and Gabe versus Jack. He's way too old for that shit now, and the guy had paid for his GED, amongst other things in his quest to accidentally parent everyone he ran across. 

“Hm? Oh, god no.” Jack breathes a laugh, folding his arms. “Honestly, I'll be happy to sit down and relax for the rest of the day.” 

“You sat down the whole way here,” Gabe notes, handing Jesse his fancy shoes. “At least you got to nap.” 

“I got out and pumped gas,” Jack replies, with an almost petulant cock of his head. “And do you know how boring that highway is without the scenery? I nearly lost my mind.” 

“I know, I know,” Gabe scoffs, gripping the man's bicep in a manner that could be construed as loving. “And you did such a good job pumping that gas, it's what I keep you around for.” 

“Hmph.” But there's an entirely fond smile with it, his fingers curling over Gabe's. Goddamn they're cute, in their black and slate suits with the little matching pocket squares. They had best not start making out at the wet bar, though that would be an improvement on Jack pretending he knows how to do the running man. 

As they step out of the sliding-glass patio doors into the heady summer air, Gabe squeezes the back of his neck in what Olivia calls a 'man-hug,' though Gabe is far from the too-insecure-to-actually-hug type. “No la cagues, alright, mijo?” 

Jesse snorts, knowing he doesn't mean walking down the aisle. “I won't.” 

There's nothing fancy to it, not even a proper altar, just a bunch of folding chairs and a borrowed music stand for Mondatta to set his notes on. Camping tents off to the side, lights and flowers strung through the surrounding trees, music playing softly through Lucio's speakers- a piano version of the ending credits theme to a movie they both love. But then Hanzo walks out, in the same outfit he'd tied Genji into last year, his brother on one arm and Amélie on the other. There's some shuffling and laughing over how to link elbows properly, but then their eyes meet while everyone's backs are turned and he smiles so sweet and Jesse's chest feels so full- “Oh god, he's so gorgeous.” 

“Called it,” Fareeha whispers, smug as anything at his side, rose pinned to her chest and ringbox in hand. Jesse smacks her discreetly, to the amusement of the spiritual leader behind them, but can't say anything around the lump in his throat. 

It's all he can do not to smooch those lips right there while Genji steps to one side and Amélie takes her seat. Hanzo takes his hands and grips tight, the afternoon sunlight doing wonderful things to his brown eyes, and it's enough for now. 

“Dear friends, we gather here today to celebrate what will hopefully be only one of many happy days shared by Jesse and Hanzo. They have asked me to thank you on their behalf, for coming together to support them.” Mondatta begins, and goddamn if he doesn't sound straight out of a movie with the gravitas in his voice. Add the resplendent, silvery robes on top, and Jesse gets the draw of his speeches, and why Lena looks like she might explode whenever he's around. Dude's got charisma for days. “There are so many people who influence our lives and the paths we take, from before we are born until after we have gone. If you'll permit me a moment's indulgence, I would like all of us to close our eyes for a minute and think about those people, perhaps especially the ones who cannot be with us today. I'll keep the time.” 

In the head-bent pause, Jesse feels Hanzo's hands shake minutely and he squeezes back tight. It's one thing to wonder, with gratitude and frustration, about how he got here and why. It's another to know, and speculate with all the acute pain of memory. 

“Thank you,” Mondatta says, looking up from his simple wristwatch and back to his notes, a smile in his voice. “As we stand in recognition of the commitment that these two are making to each other, we acknowledge that their life together is not starting, but has already begun. They have withstood many hardships and experienced many joys that have led them to make this proclamation not lightly, but gladly, solemnly, and with great courage. In your shared life, we all wish you peace, but acknowledge the yet-unknown hardships that will test you and the bond you share. Are you prepared to take on these challenges together?” 

“We are,” they manage in almost-unison, Jesse half a beat behind. Hanzo smiles at him sideways, sweat building at his temples as the sun beats down on the black cotton of his kimono. 

Mondatta nods, almost cat-like in his satisfaction. “Good. Now, while you are self-sufficient adults-” Oof, that might be a stretch. “-You will still need a community to nurture you, and many hands to help you on the road ahead. So I ask all of you here today, do you pledge to support these two and the family they've created, to speak the truth kindly to them, and to lend them your strength in times of need?” 

Scarcely a second passes before the air rings with “We do!” and the occasional “Hell yeah!”- even an impressive whistle from someone. Hanzo's eyes well up then, as they smile out over the crowd, though he thumbs the tears away quick as can be. Heaven forbid someone capture him having an emotion on film, Genji's quip materializes in Jesse's mind with only a sharp smirk over his brother's shoulder. 

“How wonderful,” Mondatta continues, off-script and genuine. “The two will now exchange the vows they have written. Jesse, I believe you 'called first dibs.'” 

Jesse's face aches from smiling while the titter dies down. He locks his eyes on his fiancé's and tries not to talk too fast. “Hanzo, you know me better than anyone else in the world and somehow, you still love me.” Muted laughter again, and an endeared chuckle from Hanzo, the same one he'll never get enough of. “You tell me all the time how I've made you a better man, but I don't think you realize that you've done the same to me and more. So, I promise to remind you of that every day, and I'll do everything I can to look after you and make sure you don't regret this, till death do us part.” 

Hanzo's laugh turns wet, but his smile doesn't flag. He clears his throat at Mondatta's nod, shutting his eyes a moment to block everyone out. They had purposefully kept it short, Hanzo struggling to be sentimental in public. Even still, there isn't an ounce of hesitance in his serious, stage-worthy tone. “Jesse, I promise to always give you the best of myself, though you have often put up with my worst. I will take your family as my family, as you have already taken mine. I will work hard to make you at least half as happy as you've made me, to ensure our life together is well-lived, and I'll always draw you handsome.” 

The laughter is mixed with sniffles now, one at Jesse's back and surprisingly none at Hanzo's, though Genji's glasses do nothing to hide the red in his eyes. The 'boring bit,' as their rehearsal sticky notes read, allows Jesse to catch his breath. They sign the register with their loopiest signatures, Genji and Fareeha stepping forward to do the same. Genji pours the sake for the san-san-ku-do ceremony Hanzo taught him the week before, Jesse kneading his chest afterwards. “Oof, shoulda had breakfast.” 

“Do not vomit,” Hanzo whispers in that crisp, eye-narrowing tone Jesse's come to know and adore. He just snickers, though he hopes somebody remembered to make dinner rolls. 

In the slim moment where the cups and bottle are cleared away, Jesse looks back. Zen's in the front row, neatly dabbing his eyes with a handkerchief, cute guy that he is. Ana is beaming, a single tear slipping down her cheek while she there-there pats a weepy Reinhardt. Gabe and Jack sit in similar tired old men poses, but their eyes tell all, Jack's arm looped around Gabe's shoulders. Torbjörn's brood takes up the two back rows, Brigitte shushing some of the younger ones as they fidget in the formal clothing they were wrestled into this morning. The rest of their friends sit rapt and smiling, leaning on each other and fanning themselves in the sticky heat. Even Amélie's smile is softer than usual. 

“Now it is time for the exchange of rings,” Mondatta intones with something like giddiness, or as close as someone like him gets. He pauses so that Genji can open the box for his brother to take the ring, the glance between them speaking volumes. “Hanzo, if you would please take Jesse's hand and tell him first why you love him, second why this day is important to you.” 

Hanzo obeys, having requested to go first so that he might 'maintain some dignity,' since Jesse's dignity obviously up and went a long time ago. He takes Jesse's flesh hand in his, his smile more than blue skies and sunshine to his fiancé in that moment. “I love you because you are a truly good man, one stubborn enough to love me.” Everyone gets a good laugh at that while Hanzo pushes his braid back over his shoulder. “And because I wished to show you that I'll never leave your side.” 

The multicoloured band slips on with ease. They've worn them as engagement rings all this time, but slim tears still join at Jesse's chin. The levity in Hanzo's words somehow keeps the tremble from his own, but only just. Fareeha's grin is as big as his while she holds out the box, Hanzo's right hand almost fragile in the grip of his metal fingers. “I love you because you showed me that my dreams weren't anywhere near as good as reality.” Hanzo's lips pull thin at that. Who knew they'd both grow up to be such sappy bastards? “And because I wanted to prove how serious I've always been.” 

The weight of Mondatta's hands on their shoulders is almost paternal, pride shining in his face as he speaks that much louder than his previous words. “What the two of you have made together, let no one unmake. You may-” 

Hanzo's patience flames out exactly then. He cups Jesse's jaw and pulls him down for a chaste, but very firm and knee-weakening kiss in front of everyone they know. 

*** 

Genji stands up and rolls his shoulders, much like their judo instructor taught them to do as boys. Lena passes him an unopened bottle of champagne (the good kind, he owes Winston a hug) with a cheeky grin. Hanzo and Jesse's thank-you speech was cute and all, but he'll never let his brother get one up on him. 

“Several years ago,” Genji begins, minding his feet as he steps outside the circle of guests around the fire pit. “I agreed to go shoot pool with some weirdo I met in our dear Doctor Ziegler's waiting room, with the sole intention of getting him to stop bothering me. Spoiler: It didn't work, but at least I got him to quit calling me Shimada-san.” 

That nets a laugh and Genji smiles, warmed by the setting sun and the half-finished fourth mojito in his other hand. He doesn't often drink now, beginning to fret over what medicine and addiction have done to his liver, but he's been working harder than Cinderella's mice this week and getting lit once a year never killed anybody. “Jesse and I spent a lot of time together back then, mostly eating and binge-watching stupid TV shows on a streaming account belonging to someone who shall remain nameless.” He gestures with the neck of the bottle. “But on an unrelated note, Fareeha, you should really change your passwords once in a while.” 

“Son of a _bitch!_ ” Fareeha shouts from across the fire, firing a chunk of cake at Jesse which he catches and promptly eats just to spite her. 

“I came to consider Jesse a good friend, one of the first I'd had in some time.” Genji keeps an edge to his smile while the crowd softens. No need to bust that emotional nut too early. “Luckily we never slept together, or this would be really awkward.” 

Another chorus of giggles and snorts, the first groan of distaste from Hanzo. Perfect. “Around this time, a wild brother of mine appeared.” Genji quickly dances past the smoke, not wanting to linger on a painful point by collapsing into a coughing fit. “And in accordance with his lifelong pattern of terrible taste, developed a big fat crush on one Jesse McCree.” 

“Love ya too, asshole.” Jesse smacks him on the way by, but Genji keeps going. At this point, he might need the perpetual motion to stay upright and dignified. Hanzo's eyes are trained on him, but he's not done yet. 

“But unbeknownst to him, Jesse had also caught feelings,” Genji takes a sip of his drink for a brief dramatic pause. “Despite the fact that my brother is a stuck-up grouch who sucked his thumb until he was twelve.” 

A proper snarl of his name sets him cackling, though Jesse is kind enough to restrain and smooch Hanzo into submission. He pushes his glasses back up, realizes he isn't wearing them, and carries on. “Jesse's approach to this situation was to drive to the other side of town every day for terrible sandwiches and a chance to glimpse his beloved's perpetually exhausted visage. Hanzo's approach was to do absolutely nothing.” 

More laughter, more Hanzo grumbles. “They did finally go on a date with no insignificant amount of prodding from yours truly, but since it's their special day, I won't congratulate myself too much. Except to say, _you're welcome!_ ” 

That inspires some gentle jeering aimed at the two of them, Genji bouncing back on his heels and almost slipping, gesturing with both arms. “But truly, I never expected things to turn out this way; Hanzo marrying the guy who taught me how to roll joints specifically because doing it one-handed is a pain in the ass.” 

A deeper groan at that one while the others laugh and shout. “Relax, Jesse, it's not like your entire family's here or anything!” He slows his wandering to one side of the fire to avoid further swipes, lifting the bottle to draw attention to his left hand. “Being married myself now, I get to incorrectly call myself an expert and assure you that it's totally great- no, honest! Hey, I'm not here for those ball-and-chain jokes, you've all seen my husband. He's literally right over there, look at him.” 

Zenyatta has been watching him with that knowing 'I will save you from yourself if necessary' look this whole time, but his posture softens noticeably, his hand on his cheek as he sits curled up on their blanket. So goddamn cute, it isn't fair. 

“You already know exactly how annoying you both are, so I won't bother reminding you.” Genji grins again, lifting one finger from the stem of his drink. “Though by the same token, don't say I never warned you! 

“Thanks again for letting us use your matrimony as an excuse to throw a party, that was cool of you.” He pauses for a chorus of cheers and glasses clinking, the sun nearly gone now and their friends' movements reflected in flickering shadows. “I think I speak for all of us when I say I look forward to you two enjoying a long and happy life together, and bickering like old hens when the sex gets boring.” 

Another loud groan from Hanzo. Zen mouths 'be nice' at him on his way by, but Genji can tell he doesn't mean it. “Just kidding, a Shimada's stamina never dies! Don't skip physio, McCree!” 

More jeering, a request from his brother to be put out of his misery. He paces again, his cheeks buzzing with laughter. “Hanzo and Jesse specifically requested no gifts- but we all ignored that and put money in the cards, right?” A beat before a series of nods and sarcastic put-offs, eliciting some whinging from the couple. “Okay good, otherwise I'd want my five dollars back.” 

The laughter rises again and he speaks again before it falls, slowing the groove he's wearing into Angela's lawn. “What these two nerds don't realize is that I'm taking home the biggest gift of all, and they gave it to me without even realizing. Can anyone guess what it is?” 

A few shout over each other, making Genji knit his brows together. “You guys are gross.” He smiles then, holding up his glass in proper toast. “The truth is that I've spent more time worrying about both of you than I care to say. When you two finally got serious, I was so relieved. Partly because I no longer had to listen to Hanzo's bitching, and partly because I knew I didn't have to worry so much anymore.” 

Hanzo's face is rather blurry at this distance, but he can see the change in it. The way his eyes get big and how his spine straightens up. Genji's smile stretches impossibly wider. “The rest of you can laugh at this part if you want- but I honestly can't tell you how grateful I am that I get to watch you become who you always deserved to be.” 

He keeps his gaze over everyone's heads because if he makes eye contact with anyone right now, he might cry and he cries super gross. “And I never thought I'd say this, but I couldn't be happier to have a new big brother.” Genji tips his glass in their direction, giggling at the odd feeling of the words in his mouth. “Thanks for sticking around, Jesse. God knows we haven't made it easy for you.” 

He doesn't let more than a couple “aw's” and fond chuckles escape before interrupting, shaking the bottle as hard as he possibly can. “And on that note, congratulations! Let's get this party-” 

The cork pops off suddenly, hitting the metal gutter of the porch with a spectacular bang while those nearest to him shriek and dodge the spray of foam. “Oh, whoops.” 

“Trying to break my windows, are we?” Angela appears at his side with eyebrow arched, yanking him down by the tie as the others scramble up, Lúcio dashing to the DJ station he'd set up beside the bar. 

“Now how was I supposed to know it would do that?” Genji giggles, filling her empty glass with flat champagne and kissing her cheek. She seems appeased as they finish it themselves, good. He's ninety-nine percent sure she could suplex him without breaking a sweat. 

Hanzo and Jesse had opted out of the first-dance business because “It's embarrassing and I don't want to,” blah blah. That means Lúcio cranks the beats right from the start, to which Genji is not at all opposed. He lets Angela spin and dip him before shaking and shimmying his way to Zenyatta's side, then bouncing from person to person across the rented dancefloor like a tipsy pachinko ball. 

It's not a huge group, the younger half of the Lindholm children already back at the monastery for a monk-supervised sleepover. The older half put the trampoline through its paces while the adults make fools of themselves. But damn, if there isn't a perfect energy to the night, both excitable and intimate. Emily pours him another drink and he revels in it. 

Zarya ends up stealing a table to arm-wrestle any willing participants, which include his husband, who lasts an entire minute before she puts him down. Twice as long as Genji last time, he's impressed. 

“You are like bamboo branch!” Zarya declares, lifting Zen's lean arm by the wrist and affectionately slapping his bicep. “Lean, but surprisingly strong!” 

Zenyatta flushes, looking adorably sheepish as Gabe, Jack, Ana, Mei, and Lena clap for him and wait their turn. Genji's just about to walk up and tease the hell out of him when he feels someone grip his shoulder from behind. It's Hanzo, frowning slightly, how entirely unexpected. 

“What's-” Hanzo wraps his arms around him before he can finish, his face pressed against Genji's shoulder. He can't help but laugh, though the tight embrace constricts his ribs. “Aw, two hugs in one day? You do love me.” 

“Shut up,” is Hanzo's only reply, because of course it is. His eyes are doing the sad puppy thing when he pulls back. He was sort of born looking sad, but it's still concerning. “My speech at your wedding wasn't nearly as good.” 

“You know, you're right! Tell you what, I'll get married again so you can do it over. Will that make you feel better?” 

Hanzo scowls at him. Ah, such a nostalgic sight. “Can you stop ruining the moment for ten seconds?” 

Genji downs the last of his cocktail and snaps his fingers into a point. “Nope.” 

Hanzo sighs, his brow pinched like he has a headache but his eyes remain gentle, shining in the glow of the string-light canopy. He toys with the cord of his obi. “I will pay you back for this if it's the last thing I do.” 

“The hell you will,” Genji huffs. “You don't have to wear that damn thing all night, you know. I didn't.” 

“I like it, it's comfortable.” Hanzo insists, having not removed so much as the haori despite the heat. He folds his arms across his chest, his eyes lowered, the many piercings he chose to leave in because they were 'more attractive than empty holes' glinting slightly. His voice is barely audible when he finally speaks. “There is much I admire in you, and much I can never repay you for.” 

Genji's response is stolen by the approach of Jesse. Hair askew, jacket off, and a big stupid grin on his face. “C'mere, you shit.” He hauls Genji into a bear-hug as soon as he raises his arms for it, gladly accepting it in lieu of the ones he used to dodge. 

He groans as his toes leave the ground. “Ugh yes, crush me so I can skip this hangover.” 

“Not a chance.” Jesse laughs, dropping him and slinging his arm around Hanzo, bending to kiss his forehead. The way he acts around him still makes Genji shake his head in disbelief. All Velcro eyes and little sighs and darlin'-honey-sugarbean's. Unbelievable. 

Even more surprising is the ease with which Hanzo turns into his touch, lifts his chin to hold his gaze, lets his arm be stroked as they speak. To see his big brother smile again, watch him do the things he wants, not what he feels he must or is ordered to do- it's worth the world to him. 

As he's having that realization, a certain slow song comes on and Jesse gets excited, tugging Hanzo towards the dance floor. He looks back at Genji for permission, legitimately concerned about his brother feeling ditched. Genji can't help but grab his face, squishing his cheeks and planting a smacking kiss on his forehead. “Pft, you're so cute, anija! Go have fun!” 

“Ugh, don't.” Hanzo recoils from him like an angry cat before Jesse laughs and hurries him along. 

He giggles and leans against the wall of Angela's house, considering asking Lúcio to put on something loud and fast after this so he can do an ill-advised handstand or twerk towards Bastion or something. No meds plus rum certainly leaves him with lots of ideas. 

Zenyatta rolls up beside him then, merely smiling and setting his brakes when Genji plops himself into his lap, perhaps ten percent too confident his presence is desired there. God, he looks and smells so good. Buttoned into one of those gauzy pastel tops he prefers, features ringed with thin gold jewellery, nails painted and eyes lined in deep blue. His hand is so soft against Genji's cheek. He's beautiful. “You're beautiful.” 

“And you're very warm,” Zenyatta observes, reaching for the buttons of his black vest. “Let's get this off before you overheat.” 

Genji chooses comedy over tenderness, striking a pose worthy of a soap opera. “Ooh, Mister Tekhartha, are you trying to undress me?” 

“Oh, you are drunk.” Zen replies, an amused statement of fact rather than a question, fixing him with a cheeky, freckle-bunching smile once he helps him out of it. “Try not to let your lips write cheques your body can't cash this time, hm?” 

“I said I was sorry, I got the spins!” Genji whines in his defence, but quickly abandons that in favour of sweetly kissing Zen. He fits so perfectly in Genji's arms when he cuddles up to him afterwards, nuzzling against his temple. 

“Do you want to go dance, dear one?” 

Genji looks back, catching a glimpse of Hanzo tucked under Jesse's chin, Jesse's cheek on his crown, their hands clasped. With his glasses back on, their smiles are easy to see even from here. They both look so- safe, is the only word he can come up with. 

“In a minute,” he murmurs, turning to share another, slower kiss with his husband in the electric night air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _No matter how your heart is grieving, if you keep on believing, the dream that you wish will come true..._
> 
> Happy New Year all!!! This definitely tops the schmoopiest thing I've ever written. Y'all have Trifoilum to thank for this one again! I mentioned in a comment discussion that I had purposefully left the wedding ceremony out of 'Care' because I thought no one want to read it, to which they responded something to the effect of _WHAT._ So bonus wedding scenes happened!   
>  And yes, Jesse is singing a song from Waitress because his musical tastes finally caught up with the 21st century. Feel free to take your own stab at what their slow-dance song is.   
> When writing the ceremony text I referenced a book called 'Equal Rites' bu Kittredge Cherry and Zalmon Sherwood- do recommend for anyone interested in LGBTQ+-positive wedding, funeral, etc. texts. Also 'Something New' by Lucy Knisley is another huge recommend if you're like me and weirdly obsessed with wedding minutiae?   
> I'm really enjoying doing these smaller, almost doodle-like fic between larger ones. Hope you like them too, thanks for reading!


	8. A Love of Him (light NSFW)

_“How long?”_ Genji had asked him once, when their intimacy was new and the abrupt transition from friendship to romance was still a surprise. 

Zenyatta is meticulous about dates, never forgets a birthday, and is teased by Mondatta for having a selectively-photographic recall. His memories are precious, and he enjoys tracing the map of his life from one auspicious moment to the next. Genji is something of an anomaly. Try as he might, he cannot pinpoint the realization, that particular moment of _oh._

His heart was soft for him from the beginning. Beneath the rail-thin, unkempt, and glaring veneer lay pain. Hardly uncommon at the meal programs, Zen offered equal measures of kindness and listening to all he could, but with repeated visits he found himself drawn to Genji. There was something looming over the man, a storm of anger and grief that sparked and left iron in his tongue. The eye of that storm held a charming, witty, sweet young man who had been kept from being any of those things for so long, he no longer knew himself. 

'Young man,' as if Zenyatta wasn't two years younger still. A fact he was crisply reminded of on bringing Genji to the monastery, but he was certain by then. Genji was no threat and no parasite. His certainty convinced Mondatta first, then his brothers and sisters, and Genji himself ended their doubts in due time. 

Zenyatta had yet to properly fall in love. He had suffered no gutting heartbreaks, but endured plenty of promising crushes ending in some stripe of disappointment, some of which overlapped with Genji's stay at the monastery. Perhaps his unfamiliarity with the feeling made it hard to identify. Stories were insufficient, life could not be lived through books, of that he was sure. 

Logically, it happened at some point during Genji's residence. Perhaps it sparked during their private talks, the man's defensiveness and thorns giving way to a beautiful curiosity and, with sufficient care, empathy that had long laid dormant. Zenyatta frequently eschewed sleep to sit on the back veranda and whisper, their eyes on the stars. 

“This is nice,” Genji says, breaking a long pause in one of their more philosophical discussions to gesture with his cup of tea to the now fully-eclipsed moon. “Like a little moon-viewing party.” 

“Agreed,” Zenyatta replies in earnest. His eyes rest on Genji then, painted in heavy shadows but his slight smile still visible. He knew what it was to be so overwhelmed by inner strife that you become blind to everything outside yourself, and feels a flush of affection for him. “I must say, you've been doing very well. You should be proud of yourself.” 

Genji seems surprised, then the smile quickly disappears as it so often did. “Pft, I haven't done anything special.” 

Zenyatta touches his shoulder, still with a degree of caution. “You don't have to, this is enough.” 

Genji said nothing else, but there was a glint in his eyes. A struggling desire to believe him. 

Was it then? Those day-by-day months at his side as Genji went about the painstaking business of gluing himself back together. Stoking the fire in his soul to keep himself going, no matter how often his mouth and his mind insisted there was no reason to bother. When Zenyatta's heart ached so deeply for him, only able to find solace in prayer and hope that fate would smile on him. 

Or was it the unique brand of levity he brought to their small order? Jokes that left Zen weeping with laughter, elaborate duets with Sita as they mopped the long halls and used the handles as microphones, and a biting sarcasm that came to be used for tension-breaking rather than taking jabs at himself. 

Maybe it was the respect shown to those Zenyatta called family. Even in the early, standoffish days, Genji took advantage of no one's kindness and would sooner keep to himself than voice his discontent. Once he got over his embarrassment, he was eager to help, to learn, to mouth the words of their chants as he learned their meanings. The presence of him during their meditations brought peace to Zen's mind and spirit. Indeed, his energy was emblematic of Zenyatta's understanding of the Iris; chaotic, ever-shifting, and beautiful in its wholly unlikely complexity. 

His looks were not to be ignored, either. The pallor of illness and malnutrition soon gave way to a pink glow beneath coppery skin. His body filled out splendidly, lean limbs and middle with thick, defined shoulders. His scars stole none of his beauty, healed to ridges of white and pink across his face, stomach, thighs. Standing in the sun, dripping sweat and scantly dressed- Zen may have realized it then. Platonic friendship and simple sensual attraction weren't inherently at odds, but persistent fantasies of helping someone towel off were entirely another thing. 

No matter the start nor the length of his pining, as the months left their first kiss in the courtyard behind and trepidation changed to contentment, Zenyatta becomes sure of one thing: Falling in love is not a singular event. 

He falls in love when Genji gets excited, over hard work paying off or the release of a long-awaited film or an unexpected day off. He has a smile bigger and more boyish than Zenyatta's seen on any other man. His brown eyes gleam, scrunching up so adorably when he's happy and made that much more handsome by his stylish glasses. 

Genji lets him try them on once and Zenyatta makes a slightly distressed noise at how strong the prescription. Genji laughs, so fond and unabashed, echoing in the closeness of Zen's room, and he falls for him again. 

Those same eyes simmer and darken when they share a bed. Zenyatta is pleased by his body's abilities, generally forgiving of its faults, but sharing your nakedness with someone else is always a little worrying. Granting them access to flesh that may be unwilling or unappealing, learning how to please them- one-off affairs are more forgiving for their brevity. Those first touches could crack the foundation of budding love, but he had nothing to fear with Genji. 

His full lips are sweetened by eagerness, tasting of hunger. Determination beneath his lip-biting as they find each other's curves and sweet spots. His lashes tickle Zenyatta's cheeks as their tongues brush. His grip on his upper arms is tight as he sucks on Zen's inverted nipples until they shyly poke out, slick and ruddy. The hot weight of him feels brilliant above or below, at his side or between his thighs. He is responsive, persistent, and _beautiful._ Zenyatta becomes greedy for him quickly, and lazy morning lovemaking after a night spent wrapped around each other becomes his favourite indulgence. 

Their bodies do let them down from time to time, but Genji takes it far more personally. As though pain were a manifested character flaw and treatment was a failure. It is those times he seems most adrift, most acutely alone despite the friends he has drawn to his side simply by the radiance of his spirit. Zen waits for the anger to pass before offering the press of his hand. 

“You are not a burden,” he tells him gently one day, Genji's head in his lap and his fingers threading through his lovely green hair. “You must remind yourself of that. Say it out loud if needed.” 

“I've been trying, I just don't believe it.” Genji's voice is muffled against the thin cotton of his thigh, heavy with shame. “I'm so much fucking work. It's not worth it.” 

Zenyatta's chest clenches, but he keeps his tone frank. “You are entirely worth it.” With a thumb, he tilts Genji's chin so that their eyes meet and smiles for him. “But if you cannot believe that now, at least think of yourself as a pleasant burden. Like carrying an oversized plushie, or having to finish a cake before it spoils.” 

Genji snort-laughs at that, needles him with teasing words, but the pinch of his brow eases, if only slightly. 

Genji aches for praise, but can't easily accept it outside of the bedroom. Zen is happy to tell him how good he is, how perfect and needy, but he pushes the issue elsewhere. Implores him to see what he sees when Genji gulps down meds and goes off to work and studies late into the evening. When he budgets and irons and excitedly thanks the children at the monastery for their crayon drawings. When invites a laid-low Jesse over for beer and video games, dashes off to help Angela when she's sleep-deprived to the point of mild delirium, or throws his arm over the shoulders of any one of their friends when they fade into the background of a conversation and gives them his complete attention. 

Every effort, every step forward, every remarkable transformation sends Zenyatta's heart soaring. How he wishes Genji could see himself for who he really is, love himself and his tremendous, inherent goodness as intensely as he deserves. 

Instead he turns that devotion on Zenyatta, offering more than Zen could ever know what to do with. 

It isn't merely his flirtatious charm, which he still trades on and which Zenyatta can completely disarm with a smirk and a well-phrased retort. To see him wide-eyed and flustered is another special pleasure, one that never grows old. 

No, it is the way that, when their shared life becomes entirely routine, Genji still stops whatever he's doing to kiss him hello. Still holds his hand or cuddles him outright, unprompted, when he's within arm's reach. Still helps him with his leg exercises and remembers his favourite candy bar and lets him pick what to watch. His sweet little bird. 

It is the way they allow themselves to revel in all their infinite firsts, rather than scoffing and giving over to cool indifference. Like when Zenyatta is on his stomach, gasping as Genji presses inside, so slow and slick. He comes to lay on top of him, teeth working at Zenyatta's shoulder. “Fuck, oh _fuck,-_ ” 

“Are you alright?” Zen asks, his voice sounding faraway and almost foreign to him. 

“Heh, yeah, m'good.” Genji's laugh is scarcely a breath, but his hands come to rest atop Zen's, clasping them and dragging them between his body and the mattress. He hugs him tight, humming as his nibbles turn to lingering kisses. “Trying not to come.” 

Zenyatta giggles airily at that, feeling every shift and drag between them. He pulls one hand up to clumsily kiss Genji's knuckles. “My love, I won't be upset if you come quickly.” A moment's thought. “Or inside.” 

Genji's stillness is pronounced. “Are you sure?” 

Zen has to bite his tongue not to call out the poorly-disguised, youthful excitement in his tone, as it would be a pot-kettle situation. He had only ever bottomed for Akande, and they were never exclusive. Having Genji bare inside him, it's- “Yes, I want to feel all of you.” 

“God _damn_ it,” Genji breathes hard against his neck. He chuckles low, more a vibration than a noise, his voice rough as he kisses just below Zenyatta's ear. “You're a freak, I'm keeping you.” 

Zenyatta has always loved Genji's voice, its ragged edges like feathers against his ear. But when it's turned against him like that, Zenyatta can only laugh dizzily and swear he's truly left his physical form behind as Genji's hips rock into him. 

No one has ever looked at Zenyatta the way Genji does. The hazy gaze when one of them is between the other's legs is phenomenal, but the stare he fixes him with afterwards can border on worshipful. In clothed daylight, his eyes are filled with something like wonder at times, as though Zenyatta is at once mysterious and astonishing. In the heady air of the monastery gardens, in the neon glow of the city, in the pleasant dim of their flat, those stunning eyes find him and seem so surprised that Zen simply must reach out and cup his cheek. His eyes brighten then, and he will joke or kiss Zenyatta's palm or both, depending on his mood. 

“You're gorgeous,” Genji tells him in earnest, whether he's dotted with glitter and smeared eyeliner after a night out, buttoned up for a special event at work, or making toast in his most threadbare pajama pants. 

It's not surprising because Zenyatta thought himself unlovable, it's surprising because Zenyatta never thought such an intense romantic love could be real. 

Genji's words often come too slow or too fast, a point of frustration for him. Sometimes he still cannot voice what he feels, the swell of his emotions threatening to capsize him, and all Zen can do is love him through it. Even during innocuous Ghibli binge nights. 

“Oh goodness,” Zen rasps, reaching for his handkerchief and dabbing at his eyes while Chihiro breaks Haku's curse. “This part always gets me.” 

The absence of a comforting hand or a light remark draws his gaze downwards where Genji lays, head pillowed on his lap. Arms and leg drawn up tight beneath the swaddle of blankets, spilling tears illuminated by the glow of Zen's laptop, his expression young and broken. Zenyatta returns his eyes to the screen and strokes Genji's overgrown hair until the credits roll. 

He had found Hanzo only three weeks prior, no words are needed. 

When he speaks, he is nothing if not authentic, and Zen asks for nothing more. Missteps are easily forgiven when intentions are good, even more so when the person you love is working to unlearn generations of pain and mistakes. “I'm so proud of you, my dear sparrow.” 

Genji huffs, a smile curving his lips. He looks very handsome in the sunset's glow, lying on his side, naked to the sheet at his middle and his head propped up on one hand. Definite romantic lead material. “You always say that.” 

“I always mean it.” Zen wriggles closer, settled on his back and pressed against the warm line of Genji's body. 

“I know,” Genji chuckles again, continuing to map Zenyatta's body with his fingertips. Up from his chest, along the sensitive cords of his neck, over his cheek before lightly tapping his nose. “And I meant what I said, I owe you my life.” 

“You owe yourself for that,” Zenyatta insists gently, slipping his fingers against the sensitive column of his lover's- rather, fiancé's throat. “No one could have helped you do anything you were not willing to do.” 

“I don't disagree,” Genji prefaces as he always does before disagreeing. “But I can't imagine summoning that will without your help.” Zen sighs, not in defeat but amusement, and Genji takes up caressing him again, his eyes strange before he brings his lips to Zenyatta's forehead and speaks. “I didn't really know how to love before you, you taught me that. You've taught me so much- you've made my life worthwhile, Zen.” 

His breath is trapped in his chest. “Genji-” 

“I mean it.” He pulls back and there's that cheeky, shining smile. Forever impish, never really growing up as he grows older, and Zen wouldn't have him any other way. 

Zenyatta lifts himself on his elbows for a proper kiss, feeling Genji sigh into it and not retreating until their lips swell and blush. He lays back, affection-drunk and limbs still heavy from their earlier activities, finding himself absently tracing Genji's tattoo. It's incredible work, a true irezumi, the colours not much faded courtesy of years of long sleeves. He had understandably loathed it for a time, and still doesn't appreciate the conspicuous physical tie to the Shimadas, but has come to an understanding similar to his scars. He can carry pieces of his past without being controlled by them. 

“Could I get a dragon, too?” 

“Eh?” Genji visibly twitches back to reality, stumbling a few times before deciding on a question. “Do you really- I mean, it's not so much that I'd mind, I didn't think- why do you want one?” 

“Well, I wouldn't want one quite so elaborate, that wouldn't exactly be my style.” They both chuckle, Zen clasping his left forearm, tracing the skin there. “But perhaps a smaller one, here. Only if you wish, it's not mine to claim. As for why,” Zen smiles affectionately, cupping that familiar stubbly jaw and holding his gaze. “I would like to have something of yours, so that I never have to be apart from you.” 

Sometimes obscuring your meaning helps make it clearer. He's close enough to watch realization dawn in Genji's eyes and it warms him to the core, his voice breathless. “Zenyatta-” 

“Well?” Zen interrupts, taking his turn at being cheeky. 

Genji opens his mouth, closes it, smiles, and leans in with a lusty look. “Yes, absolutely. I'll even hold your hand if you start whining.” 

“We'll see about that.” Zenyatta scoffs and draws him in close, the two of them curling against each other. Genji's kisses are quietly passionate, they'll both be worked up and over again before the evening is out. Here they will drift asleep and wake in each other's arms and fall for each other all over again in the morning light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to do short "sketch" chapters to try and loosen up between bigger stories. It's quite fun! Hope you like it, thanks for reading!   
> (Also re: that past pairing- Talon obviously doesn't exist in this universe, Akande's just a successful tech businessman who had some meetings with Mondatta back when Zen was in grad school and they had an on-again off-again thing. No bad blood or any dramatic significance, other than that Zen's exception to his vegetarianism is beefcake *hit with rock* but we already knew that)


End file.
